Viewpoints
by rebel scamp
Summary: Lost love is reunited when a young rockstar and a Hollywood starlet's paths cross again.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Viewpoints  
Disclaimer: all i really own, are the emotions, imagination and a straw cowboy hat.  
Rating: PG-13 for now  
Pairing: Spencer and Ashley.  
Summary: Just the beginning, there's nothing you should be warned about so i dont feel the need to ruin the chap with a summary  
A.N.: Special shout out to David Ives in this chappy. as i 'borrowed' a few of his lines from "the universial language." and pre thank you for you patience as this one wont make much sense to you yet. Just a warning, it will most likey confuse you for the first three, but it will make sense, just trust me.

_"Who am I? I'm a young self-conscious girl with a stutter. Age? 25. Dress? Flowing moo moo and a cardigan that matches a little too well. Disgustingly ugly high heeled shoes, that are neither high nor heeled. Plastic rimmed spectacles that take up 80% of my face. Over sized broach on my left shoulder. Hair? Big, and I'm not talking 1980's fashion big. I'm talking "holy shit look at that fuzz ball! What is that, a poodle on her head?" That kind of big. The kind of big that will embarrass you in five years as you look over photos in your mothers kitchen. But I like it. It's who I am and it's what makes me comfortable. I like to hide beneath the swells of clothing._

"My gaudy jewelry makes me feel like a queen. It's safe and always next to me. It's the one thing I trust. It wont hurt me only help me. I dont know how or when it will, but it will. I know it. My mother gave me this jewelry when I turned 21. It had belonged to my grandmother, Eunice. She left it to me when she died. I was twelve at the time. It devastated me. Nana and I were very close. We used to sit and play cards forever. Rummy, Hearts, Bridge, Nines, Black Jack, Hold 'em, Big Two, War, you name it we played her necklace makes me feel close to her, even if it makes me look out of date.

"I was the closest to Nana. When she died I boxed myself off from the world. It didn't really seem like the kinda place I wanted to live in. So, I didn't. That didn't lead me to a very well adjusted adulthood. I barely know how to talk to any one, ever, about anything. I'm just as well though, no one would want to listen to me talk. Bumbling along for two minutes and barely speaking one sentence. I'm not sure where that came from. The rest of the family speaks clearly, precisely, perfect to the point that makes me want to vomit.

"What kind of family did I come from? A uniquely different one. My mother and father were the youngest in their families. My mother, the youngest of seven. My father the youngest of nine. I have 30 first cousins from my mother's side, and 50 from my fathers'. But, I am an only child. One mansion, one swimming pool, one game room, one dog, one cat, one maid, one butler, one Nanny, one car, one kid.

"Singular serenity serving soul-less Stan and Sarah and their daughter Dawn. So, how did I interact with my family? I didn't, post childhood. Before that I had only Nana and Julie the nanny. My parents the socialites, rarely had time for me past age 7. Talking was a formal occasion, usually painful, as I was constantly berated for my inability to speak. The majority of my time was spent in textbooks and journals. By graduation in 1999, I'd memorized every edition of the MLA handbook since freshman year, quoting it front to back to front again to the amusement of the entire English department.

"My love affair for rules order and the ever changing beauty of written language led me down a road my parents did not want for me. I'm not one for imagination, so I didn't want to be a writer. I can't be a public speaker, and that limited me severely. Editing though, that's the ticket. I make a great editor.

"Did I have a well-adjusted home life or were there many conflicts? The day I told them I wanted to be a copy editor there were. There have been ever since. My parents go on about affording me any and everything in the world. Being able to pay for any education I wanted, for any degree I wanted, but wanting to simply correct the grammar of others.

"I still hear about it. Not in a demeaning, "What have you done? You've ruined the life we built for you," kind of way but they constantly go on and on at the better life I could have if I switch firms, or take this internship, or be the assistant on that project and so on. I just smile and nod my head, reluctant to speak, as the stutter stops the poignancy of my choices from coming across.

"Four years of high school were followed by four years of college, and I'm half way through two years of post graduate studies. I plan to stop there. I could keep going, but our family doesn't need another doctor. It would also lead to public speaking, and that's where I freeze. No point in getting my doctoral degree if it's only going to collect dust at my parents house.

"I'm a very in ward person. I tend to keep my feelings buried deep inside of me. Lately though, I don't know. I see people walking down the street and I want to talk to them. I want to say yes when Karen who sits two desks behind me asks if I'd like to go dancing on Thursday nights. I want to have the courage to speak to Walker the copy guy.

"I want to tell him that 'the establishment can kiss my ass" too. Ok well maybe I won't say it in those words, but you catch my drift. I don't want to be afraid to live any more just because I have trouble speaking.

"That's why I'm here. This guy Don Finninneganegan, he's going to help me do that. His ad in the paper says this method is fool proof. Which is good, that means any fool can use it. That's why I'm down here today, and nothings going to stop me this time. I will not talk myself out of it, like I have for the past three weeks. I'm actual going to go in, and change my life. Learn the universal language and leave the stutter behind. Lick Unamunda, da linkwa looniversahl!

"I think it will give me confidance. I hope it will help lessen my stutter. I know it scares me to death. But at least it's one on one, I don't have to embarrass myself in front of an entire room of strangers. That's a plus. Actually, that's the only reason I've been contemplating this.

"I hope Mr. Finninneganegan, isn't a creep. He sounded nice on the phone, even if I couldn't really understand what he was saying. I wasn't put off though, in a week or two I'll understand him perfectly. I really am excited, even if I'm scared to death.

"My appointment is at six o'clock, I have about ten minutes to get there. It's on the lower east side. I hope that's not a sign or something.

"No, not its going to be good. It's going to be good. Today, Dawn will meet Don and I will change my life.

"Iago doppa diddly anda, dusa doopa doppa diddly anda? Oop scoopa diddly bop, iago scoopa bop da-wow! Iago doppa diddly anda, dusa doopa doppa diddly anda? Oop scoopa diddly bop, iago scoopa bop da-wow! Iago doppa diddly anda, dusa doopa doppa diddly anda? Oop scoopa diddly bop, iago scoopa bop da-wow!"

"Ms. Carlin?"

"What?" She snaps back at the assistant stage manager. "Don't you know it's rude to disturb an actor while they are preparing?"

"I'm sorry. I just, needed to call places."

"Thank you places."

Bouncing on the balls of her feet she chants.

"Nerdy, nervous energy, shy, flower like, child.

Nerdy, nervous energy, shy, flower like, child.

Nerdy, nervous energy, shy, flower like, child."

Letting out a deep sigh she goes. "Let's hit the boards."


	2. Chapter 2

_Hesitantly she knocks on the door. Barely a sound at first. Nerves build up in her stomach. She takes a breath; knocks a little louder. Nothing happens. She lets out a nervous sigh reaching to open the door, shaking. She can't quite do it, so she knocks in rapid succession louder than before. Sweat beads gather above her eyebrows and around the backs of her ears. She takes a deep breath reaching for the knob again, heartbeat pounding in her temples. She can't do it, so she knocks a nervous knock once more. Still no answer. Just as fear is about to give way to flight she finds the strength to open the door and step in._

"He-h-h-h-hello-o-o-o-o?" Her stutter steps match her voice as she surveys the makeshift classroom. Walking around slowly she takes in all the hand made signs in words that are merely gibberish right now. As she wonders around familiarize herself with this new world she gets lost. The uniqueness hypnotizes her. Helps her to forget who she is and what's behind the door she just entered.

She's startled by the dorky looking man in a lab coat and horn-rimmed glasses. He speaks strangely and she's slightly confused. She tries her best to communicate with him but it just seems impossible. The words coming out of his mouth are discombobulated. She is getting frustrated and wants to leave.

He wont let her. He's either unbelievably desperate or dashingly suave. As she's found herself in the down right chair trying desperately to keep up with what he is saying. He slows it down a step for her, using visual aids and over pronunciations.

She follows along as best she can, tucking her hands deep in her pockets when she gets uncomfortable. She intently soaks in his parlor trick.

She is immediately in love with this new language. She hangs on every word the man says. Picking it up quickly. It's like a breath of fresh air. Gives her an energy she does not possess in the world beyond the walls of this dingy hodge-podge classroom.

She is grasping on to something she didn't know was there. Something new and exciting. Something deep. Something that mere words cant describe, but a new language shines a whole new light on.

It's short and sweet but oh so orgasmic. As the pair collapse in a heap of articulated love. They linger for a moment vowing to love forever. In their own world, by their own rules, in their own way. Loving is doing, even if it's strange. Loving is being when the world tries to taking you down. Loving is weird, and so is how we find it.

The lights go down on the moment etching forever a ten minute picture of one woman's growth through absurdity and hilarity.

When the lights come back up the beautiful blond is standing center stage. She winks at the crowd with her signature move, putting her cupped hands over her nose and mouth and bowing to the small crowed. As she stands up, she backs away to give her scene partner his moment. After he takes his bow, they come together for a moment together to please the crowd.

"Never in my life, did I think I'd have the chance to act with _the_ Spencer Carlin." The young man mumbled.

"Never did I think, I'd be playing a bit part in a ten minute play festival, ever again."

Bowing again he asks, "Then why are you here?"

Throwing a glance to the back row she answers, "She asked me to." The brunette in the back row winked at the actress then made her way to the lobby.


	3. Chapter 3

She settles into her chair taking the necessary minutes to come down from the euphoria of communion with 200 strangers and the Fresnel induced temperature of her body. She closes her eyes to recapture the curtain call, it's the moment she wants forever stitched into her memory. The moment knowing that who you are and what you do is appreciated by people you would never know otherwise. She revels in knowing she has caused a reaction in them. Laughing or crying, or crying from laughing, or laughing to relieve the tears; they always react. She takes pride in the affects of her cause.

The endorphin high she is on negates all the mess of the rehearsal process. The hours spent with a less than prepared director causing anguish and wondering 'Why in the hell did I agree to do this?' Even if the process was dreadful the ends are satisfactory. The ends are always satisfactory. So she's not too displeased that she took ten career steps backward. She doesn't regret doing what her manager deemed 'career suicide.' For ten minutes she was a bumbling dork loved by many, and one in particular, making it the best possible mistake she'd ever made. Even if she had to cope with green techie's and young actors who wouldn't know the difference between an ellipsoidal and a Mac if it spun around and hit them in the head.

They aren't that fumbling, she is just that snooty. She's earned the right to be superior. Her trophies litter the mantle in an ill attempt to add shine to the haze she's come to inhabit. The boys love her, Oscar and Tony, but they don't quite quench her thirst.

There's still an ocean of empty in her soul. She can't, or won't, find the caulk. She's coming down from her high now, just staring at her reflection. She won't admit it, but she's thinking about her. The reason for empty is always the same. She'll never call it by name, so she never will grow. She clings to the boards for comfort. She's addicted them; the shape shifting, the morphing, and the chameleon they allow her to be.

When she's on them her blood pumps harder and faster than any junkie's ever would. She could never walk away. One fix is never enough. Each crash is harder than the last, she has to get a hit or she starts to suffocate. When she suffocates, she goes blind. When she is blind her judgment lapses. When she has a lapse in judgment she has sex with inappropriate people. She's Spencer Carlin, it's her thing.

What she won't admit to anyone, herself included, who belongs to the face she sees during these frivolous fucks. Don't even ask her to indulge the notion of love. That would be a far cry even for the 'most naturally gifted actress this generation has seen.' Be prepared for a fight if you even suggest she misses the brunette just a fraction. They didn't cast her as Wonder Woman because she looks good in spandex, she has a killer right hook. Go ahead and make your funeral arrangements if you're even dreaming of mentioning the name Ashley Davies, you'll be dead where you stand. You probably won't know what happened, you'd just be a limp body falling to the floor.

You would be right though, she does miss her, she is in love with her, and she does think about her when she's trying to satisfy needs. She makes a living lying, why should the rest of her be any different? Nevermind that she only did this ten minute play festival because Kyla asked her too. Nevermind that Kyla is fairly wet behind the ears theatrically. Nevermind that Kyla is her only link to Ashley. Nevermind that she secretly hoped Ashley would make a cameo tonight. Nevermind any of that.

She spends a few minutes staring deep into her ghostly blue eyes searching for what used to be there. Wondering what the fuck happened. Where did their brilliance go? She trolls right in to self loathing as she sits in someone else's skin.

Then she decides this moment won't own her any longer. She goes through the methodic removal of the gaudy jewelry, replacing them in her ditty bag. Like wise with her shoes. She strips down to her skivvies, tossing the costume in the basket for the dressers to deal with. Taking her face wash and rag she wipes away the last layers of Dawn the stuttering fool in love until all that is left is the gracefully broken, beautifully damaged starlet completely naked and exposed. A rare sight, no one, save the reflection in the dressing room mirror, will ever see.

Making the transformation complete, she removes her wig and places it on the dummy provided for her. For a quite 15 minutes she is not Spencer Carlin, star of stage and screen. The super star every boy wants to be with, and every girl wants to be like. If they only knew her in these 15 minutes, their hearts would break for her. They would be moved by the tears she cries. Or they would leave her, the pathetic mess she thinks she is. Walk away from the legend that is this generations Natalie Wood. Or was it Marilyn Monroe? Or Katharine Hepburn? What ever it was she is convinced she is none of these.

She doesn't even think her pinky toe has half as much talent as those women. She secretly wonders what all the hype is about. What makes her so special, she is just another girl. Just another lucky kid in the right place at the right time, with the right people watching. She secretly thinks she is nothing.

When 14:59 rolls over she drags herself to the shower to wash away the sweat of another supercharged performance. When 14:59 rolls over she drags herself into the shower to regroup from the quarter of an hour spent in self abuse. When 14:59 rolls over she's cool enough to let a hot shower turn her in to the little diva that could; could go out and dance the night away with old friends, new colleagues and the hopes of catching a glimpse of one old flame.

But don't say that out loud. It's her secret. If she hears you, she might kill you.


	4. Chapter 4

She's locked herself inside this small greenish white dressing room to have a few moments of peace before the rat race resumes. She settles back into a large cushy chair bought per her request. The raggedy clock counts off the seconds of solitude. Her breath synchronises with the tick tock tick. She grabs a blue gray quilt rich with the aroma of mothballs to wrap around her as she sinks deep into the chair. She pulls the worn in blanket tight around her. Then pushes to get it tight around her feet. Pulls it up to wrap around her shoulders, pushes again to wrap it rightly around her feet. She battles with the cover, stretching it, feeling as though she would never be covered. he fights with it lazily, but with purpose.

Once she is satisfied she snuggles deeper in the chair, closes her eyes. The drum of the heater resounds in her ears lulling her. Perhaps even comforting the girl. Whatever its magic, it takes hold and she is whisked away. Away to a land that betrays all her demons, betrays all her masks, betrays the walls guarding her heart.

_She stands staring out the window patiently waiting the arrival of one black sports car carrying one sporty brunette. She's been looking forward to this all week. Traveling out alone with her lover. No Witnesses outside the mile markers that tick away the space between city and wild. Anticipation beats heavy in her ears. Bouncing back and forth on the balls of her feet a smile creeps across her face as she watches the brunette climb out of her car, swinging her locks gingerly out of her face. She pulls her glasses off and places them on the crown of her head flashing a smile at the blond in the window._

Butterflies escape as Spencer lets out an excited breath. She grabs her yellow duffel bag off the oval coffee table as she runs to greet her lover.

Three short taps of the knocker cause a flood in the girl opening the door. The sight of deep chocolate eyes instigate a pearly white grin. Instinctively they lean into taste each other. Their saliva mixes as they drink deeply. Ashley wraps her arms around Spencer's waist causing her to drop her bag as she drapes her arms over Ashley's shoulders.

After a moment of embracing they pull away. Ashley collects Spencer's bag while the latter calls out farewells to her father who is slaving over a pot of goulash in his black and red "Kiss the Chef" apron. It makes him endearing to her, in an abused mutt on a ten foot chain type of way. She loves him, despite that.

The girls pratically run to the car idlying by. Freedom blows their tendrils back; they are ready for their getaway. Ashley shifts gears and they're on their way. Spencer reaches over to take Ashley's hand as they white lines hypnotize her to sleep.  
  
She feels as though her eyes have only been closed for a moment when a light rap brings her back to consciousness. She frees her self from the cocoon she's made of the old quilt reluctantly. Making her way to the door she grabs a red shirt from a hanger and clothes herself. She takes her time with the buttons. One by one they latch masking the venerability her dreaming woke.

She gently rubs the sleep from her eyes as she opens the door.

A hazel-eyed brunette greets her with a bear hug that she reluctantly accepts. She listens intently to the river of praise spewing from the younger girls lips. She accepts it gracefully and with aplomb. She chooses to share this moment with her friend in full. She doesn't let the diva cloud the sincerity of what is transpiring.

Once the younger girl has exhausted her planed speech she offers an invitation to the cast party to the elder. The elder, feeling slightly disarrayed from the suppressed memory that forced its way to the forefront of her mind, declines. Instead she promises to attend after strike party at the end of the shows run.

Knowing that is all she will get from the starlet she nods and accepts, extending again her heartfelt gratitude at her willingness to postpone her other obligations to perform in this month long charity run. Spencer tells her that it is her pleasure; she is enjoying the experience and that she should be thanking her for the opportunity of remembering what it is like to be new to theatre.

Blushing, Kyla gives her one more hug, that Spencer, again, begrudgingly accepts. Kyla shares her disappointment of not having her at the cast party, but tells her she understands. "No one of consequence will be there anyway," she tells her. "Just cast, crew and a few of our backers. Ya know," she confides, "my family didn't even get to come tonight."

Spencers' heart stutter-steps for a moment and a lump catches in her throat. She wants to speak, but that would be admiting defeat. I told you already. She doesn't think about Ashley Davies.


	5. Chapter 5

Spencer has decided to wait to leave until she is sure she is the only living soul in the theatre apart from Gus the house manager, who she is convinced has been with the house since the foundation was laid. She likes him. He's the only one in the house that respects the need for peace and quiet and the co-existence with the walls and fly's, the flats and wings, the catwalk, truss and the lamps that inhabit them. She likes him because he keeps the green room secrets. She doesn't mind that he will see her demeanor. The drained unguarded moment she shares with no one, not even her parents.

Her footsteps echo off the walls as she makes her way to the stage door. She gives a small nod to Gus as he opens the heavy door for her. He smiles back letting the door's clatter fill the empty void in the alley. It's late enough that she's sure she's escaped the paparazzi, and she has for the moment. She is free and under dressed with her favorite brown hat that conceals her identy and allows her to roam along the streets of New York City. In a city that never sleeps she takes great joy in whatever invisibility she can find. She enjoys wandering up and down 42nd street. The neon casts shadows that dance as mundane city life strolls past her.

She finds it annoying. The light shining down revealing all the cracks in the sidewalk, litter on the ground, all the imperfections of Time Square. She becomes astutely aware of the imperfections of herself. The way her right eyebrow is slightly larger than the left. The freckle on her left hand that makes it weight slightly more than the right. That her steps are off kilter; her left foot pointed on a 25 degree angle while the right points straight. But she'd rather be here on this lonely street with all her flaws highlighted than in some club hidden by the darkness. Especially since half the city is tucked away in cozy establishments of inebriation. Especially since she knows no one is looking at her in this moment. Especially since she feels more alive alone on this street than in a night club dancing. Especially knowing she is the only one that can find the mistakes in her appearance.

Ok, well, maybe not the only one. There is one other person who knows all her faults. Who knows about the scar on her left knee. The one she got at the Ohio State Park when she was eight. It was a game of hide and seek turned hospital visit. One that her older brother Glen still apologizes for to this day. Then there is the two inch scar just below her right breast. Only two people know about that one. Only two people know about her laps in judgement that summer afternoon when she was fourteen. She thought it would be a good idea to go mud bogging alone. It was a fine afternoon until a poor judgement call in the depth perception sent her flying into the handle bars.

She'll tell you honestly it was the best decision in the moment. Break her arms or bruise her ribs. The latter was definitely the better choice, as she was able to hide her blunder and spare herself from the berating her other brother Clay would give her, and the endless teasing Glen would dish out.

Only one other person knows she is ticklish just above her navel. Only one person knows tantalizing finger tips where her neck meets her chest makes her moan gutturally. And she doesn't think about her. How many times do I have to tell you? She doesn't think about how beautiful Ashley was sleeping on her pillow in the mornings or how she nuzzles her hands under her chin when she wasn't being cuddled. And the chill in the air tonight _surely_ does not make her think about their first weekend away together.

She is not replaying the way they're bodies wrapped around each other or how the the sheets crumpled around their feet as they moved. She's not thinking about how the light bouncing off the walls multiplied the sexiness of her partner ten fold. Or the way Ashley's hands eased the aches in her muscles or the tension below her waist. Don't even kid yourself thinking she's let her mind drift off to the sensation of primal lovemaking on the kitchen table of the little cottage Ashley took them to. She's not even thinking about how the wind in the air is as cold as the marble floor that night. And she surely isn't reminded of the sound of whip cream being spread all over her anatomy when she hears a plastic bag tussle in the air.

And she doesn't hear a fire craclking in her memory as she steps on the dead leaves that have blown from the park. She is not thinking about the way Ashley held her for hours after their expressions of love were complete. The shadows on the wall of her appartment complex do _not_ remind her of the shadows their bodies made as the fire slowly died out. She is in no way missing cuddle time. And if you ask her she will tell you, "No it was not our nightly tradition. We did not have cuddle time every night we were together, I do not know what you are talking about. In fact I do not know who you are or why you would even dream of bring up the name Ashley Davies in my presence."

She refuses to admit to herself, that the world she lives in, so very much still revolves around that girl. You know the one I'm talking about. Don't say her name though Spencer might kill you if you do.


	6. Chapter 6

_Gravel kicks up a cadence on the tail of the black 350 as it rolls gingerly down the path to an old cabin Ashley's father managed to keep hidden from prying eyes. It's her favorite place in the entire world. The only place she ever felt like a part of a family. The only place she ever felt normal. Like she could have that life. The one with two parents 2.5 kids, a dog and a white picked fence, instead of a maid, a butler, unwanted kid, ten guest rooms and enough electronics to help you forget you're being neglected._

And that's why she's brought Spencer here. To show she would never be neglected or thrown aside or left behind or man handled. It was a place to quietly co-exist without fear of unwanted eyes prying, be it the press or the prude. It was a time of their own. A place to get to get tangled up in.

The cabin is a perfect, quaint little three bedroom two bath with a nice sized kitchen/dining room/living room jumble. The fire place made it cozy even if it was cluttered. Cluttered was something Ashley could learn to love, it meant becoming a proper family. Spencer knew this and that's what excited her. It's what gave her the courage to lie to her mother about her weekend where abouts. It's the way those chocolate brown eyes fill the void of space when they are in the room. It's that they want to make a house a home. It's that they look at her hungry with the need to devour her in one sure gulp. They pierce into her greedily, as if they are the only eyes allowed to take in her beauty. Their gaze is intoxicating, rendering Spencer speechless.

All her excuses to hold off on physical expression of what is undeniably there go out the window. The only option is two bodies tangled in satin sheets. Moving frantically to share an intimate moment.

The friction created a heat so powerful it could have melted snow. The comforter crumpled on the hardwood floor. The girls drank thirstily of one another, desperate to quench the thirst. To satisfy an ache that had been build since their skin first brushed as they stood beside a locker with green paint chipping off at the edge.

They hold onto each other like they are the only beings in the world. Like time would stop if they stop. Each slide of the finger marking territory. Each lick of the tongue eliciting fire. Heat surges as they explore each other deeper. As they daringly try new things in uncharted territory and leave a trail behind. They whimper and moan in delight.

They groan and beg for contact when it is lost. They play games that they never dared play before. They delight in winning. They delight in their solitude and make their way around the cabin, unclothed. They find ways to integrate new props with play. They play rough. They play dirty. They take turns dominating each other. They delight in submission. They experiment with textures found around their getaway. They keep count, set a record. Their 5 hour marathon lands them in the kitchen. Their play escalates to an editable level.

Spencer takes chocolate syrup from the cabinet; uses it to create a topography of love. She drags her tongue like a brush on a canvas that tickles that tickles and stimulates her lover.

The tile floor burns them as they roll around. Play cannot contain passion as they are back at it. Hersey's bottle abandoned. They are slick and sticky now, the brown liquid has worked its way between them marking when the pieces of the puzzle fit together. They pick up their pace. Making each moment count. Making each moment build into the next. Build and build until they collapse in a sweet sweaty heap on the struggle for a minute to catch their breath. When they've some what recovered, the drag themselves to the bathroom to wash away sticky residue.

Shutting the door, she turns the light on, walks slowly over to the tub. She places the stopper in the drain, reaches up to bring the silver facet to life. The cold spray bounces back at her. That's the moment with the past stops being the present. The water wakes her dreaming. She's Spencer Carlin, the dreamy starlet, not Spence the lover of the girl of her dreams. In this moment all the plays, lick's, experiments become played, licked, experimented. The past is no longer the present, and she is no longer living in a daydream.

She is sitting alone, in her uptown apartment just off the park, effectively not thinking about Ashley.


	7. Chapter 7

Waves of vanilla flood her nostrils as she pours bubble bath solution into the bath. The flow springs the white foam to life and they rise to cover her body. She's put an exceeding amount in the tub with her so that they take over completely. The bubbles flood her like an avalanche of warm vanilla sugar.

She lays her head down on the tile letting the water creep. It is only up to her ears so she doesn't make a move. She blows the bubbles off her mouth to make an easier path for breath. They explode, twist and turn then float gracefully down. Water fills the orifice of sound, she takes a deep breath, lets out a long low sigh. Water cups around her cheeks and top of her chin. She takes another deep breath before she is completely covered by water.

The sound of running water lulls her. She feels weightless. She drifts along the bottom for some time. Just as she begins to blackout from lack of oxygen she springs to the surface, quickly turning the off the faucet.

She's gotten a head rush from the jump and has to steady her hand on the cold wall to keep from falling over. She leans against the wall until the spinning stops. She shivers slightly then sinks back in to the warm abyss.

She notices mold on the ceiling, how it makes a pattern that vaguely resembles images of Christ laid around her parents house. She thinks about simpler times, easy days spent romping around small town Ohio. When answers were clear. Or at the very least unclouded by the cynical passing of time. When she had an energy that would conquer the world and idealism that can only be matched by purity of youth. And she misses those days.

She misses them so she sinks below the bubbles to drown the memory. She lingers, she floats, she hides behind vanilla foam. She's weightless in the moments of forgetting. Peace floods her. She blows air bubbles as she slides slowly back to the surface. She lays back closing her eyes seeing flashes of the most beautiful thing ever. They play like micro film on the backs of her eyelids until she cant take it any more.

So she pulls the stopper, watching in sadness as life is drained from the bubbles she's befriended. She sits shivering for a moment so have a small funeral for them as they die. She helps them to their final resting place. They leave their residue on her pruned skin.

She's dried herself off now and has made her way to the highboy against the wall by the door of her room. She searches for a minute, she's trying to find an old flannel shirt, the one that vaguely smells of lavender. She wont admit it's origins to you, so don't ask.

_She slides it over her bare body, breaths in the fading scent, then slowly does up the buttons. She closes her eyes and leans against the dresser. A small smile creeps up her face. The more she thinks the wider it grows. The wider it grows the happier she feels. The happier she feels the more she dreams. She dreams until she's woken by the sounds of rocks pelting her window._

She runs to see what the clatter is about. She covers her mouth to keep from waking her parents who are asleep just two rooms down. "Ashley" she calls in a whisper, "what are you doing here?"

"Come down."

"My parents are still awake."

"Then you better be quite. Come on."

She grabs her blue stretch pants on her way out the door and juggles to put them on as she climbs down the stairs. Stubbing her toe on the brown table on the landing that keeps the family keys. She bites her lip to keep from screaming as she jumps towards front door.

"Ash, you shouldn't be here its 2 a.m."

"Is you're hair wet?" she nods in response, "And I'm the weird one for being at your door at two a.m."

She rolls her eyes and plants a kiss on her girl. "Whatever, what are you doing here?"

"I just thought I'd come say hey."

"You're at my door, at two a.m. because you wanted to say hey?"

"Well, that, and I wanted to do this," Ashley grabs Spencer round the waist and pulls her in for a delicious tangling of tongues.

After several minutes of twilight pashing Spencer pulls away grinning, "For as much as I like that, that can't be the only reason you're here."

"Ok, it's not. I wanted to bring you this," Ashley reaches behind Spencer retrieving a tall Starbucks cup from the window sill.

"Again, 2 a.m."

"It's hot chocolate."

"Where did you find an open Starbucks?"

"I didn't," Ashley grins as she drapes a blanket over Spencer. "I've had that cup for a while now. I wash it and re-use it at home."

"You re-use a paper cup?"

"This is a special cup."

"Special?"

Ashley nods as she leans against the house pulling Spencer into her arms kissing her on the crown of her head. "One year ago today, I accidentally ran into the most amazing woman ever. Literally. She spilled my coffee all over me. It kinda pissed me off. But she had an endearing quality about her. I just could not stop thinking about her the whole rest of the day. As I sat in my English class sipping on what was left of my latte, I decided I had to meet her. So I stayed through the torture. When the bell rang ending my 7th period math class I went to my locker hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Lucky for me I saw her stroll into the gym. I threw the cup in my locker, closed it, and went throw around some Ju ju."

"Ju ju"

"Or mojo, doesn't really matter what you call it I have it all." Spencer snickered, Ashley squeezed her tighter. "Never been so glad to admit I was wrong."

"When did you admit you were wrong?"

"Oh, not to you, to myself. I'd never tell you I was wrong." Again Spencer snickered.

"Has it really been a year?"

"Really has." Spencer rested her head back on her lovers shoulders, closed her eyes, and wished the moment would never end.  
  
With her eyes closed she could see possibility. She could see fond memories. She could see hard times. She could see growth and change in the both. She could could feel forever squeeze her tightly. And when she opened them again to an empty loft in the Village she saw nothing, she felt nothing, and she surely had been remembering nothing. If you ask her she will tell you, she hasn't thought about Ashley in years, then she'll secretly hope that you believe her.


	8. Chapter 8

_The room is filled with an intensity that would put Fat Man and Little Boy to shame. Ashley paces by the door arms crossed not willing to speak. Spencer rests uneasily on the couch with her head in her hands. They've been at a stalemate for some time now. Both afraid of radiation poison._

Spencer shifts uncomfortably wrack her brain for a way to ease the tension, finding none. Ashley has a firm grasp on her bottom lip. The line in the room is clearly drawn, neither dare cross it. They won't even dare look at one another.

"Ashley"

"Don't"

"Ashley, please-"

"Spencer, stop."

"This wont get better if you won't talk to me."

"Get better? You think this is gonna get better?"

"It can't get worse."

Ashley laughed in venomous sarcasm causing Spencer to flinch. Again, their silent game begins. Ashley still pacing, Spencer wrapped up in herself. The atmosphere becomes illuminated. The way the air has stopped moving is almost suffocating. The color scheme shines so bright, it seems as though a sea of gray is swallowing them whole. The carpet scratches Ashley's feet making them tender. The leather couch is slick from sweat. Spencer wants to move but she dare not stand, for fear of her legs giving way. The clock on the wall is piercing as it ticks down the seconds of doom. Spencer's breathing is only rivaled by Ashley's grinding teeth.

It's enough to drive you insane. So it's no surprise when Spencer cracks, "We can't go to bed angry Ashley."

"Watch me."

"It's the rule."

"It's a stupid rule. Made by your stupid mother, who is the cause of this stupid fight and I want to break it."

"I want you to calm down."

"I'll calm down when I'm ready to calm down. Stop trying to push your stupid Carlin-isms on me."

"I'm not trying to push anything on to you. I'm just trying to get you to talk to me."

"Well I don't want to talk to you right now Spencer."

"Well, I'm not leaving until you do."

"Sit there forever, for all I care."

And she did sit for some hours without movement. Because movement would break the dams. Movement would cause a flood. Movement would betray her feelings. Movement would weaken her resolve.

Ashley stands by the window, looking down at the pool. Wondering if she could jump from here to there. If flying is as freeing as it seems. She stands there wanting to know if she'd really feel lighter as she swan dives into the frigged deep end, where she knows she'll be light. She knows it wouldn't feel like the universe is pressing down on her there and heat wouldn't radiate from her. She wants to be down there swimming alone. Then she could be free. Then she could hide. Then she would be out of range of the blonde's energy and she could will herself to forget. Then she could cry and no one would be the wiser.

"You promised me," Ashley's voice breaks the silence. For the first time all night Spencer turns to look at her partner. "You promised me you'd be there"

"Ash, my mom wants--"

"What about what I want Spencer?"

"Ash, she's my mom."

"I'm your girlfriend, does that mean nothing to you?"

"Ashley-"

"No, Spencer, I don't want to hear it. Seems like there's always an excuse with you. Every time you're faced with a decision of me or them you choose them."

"They're my family."

"What about me?"

"You're my girlfriend."

"Then act like it, Spencer."

"I don't know how to have you both."

"Then choose."

"I don't want to choose. I want to have you both. I just don't know how yet, but I'm trying. Isn't that what you want? For me to try?"

Frustrated Ashley turns back to the window. She did tell Spencer all she wanted was for her to try to have this relationship. Lately it wasn't enough for her, and she was having a hard time expressing that to Spencer. She tried to stay sympathetic to Spencer's plight, but a promise is a promise.

"You know it's not every day that your girlfriend opens a rock show for the the most popular band in the country."

"Ash, you know I wanted to be there--"

"Then be there Spencer."

There standing toe to toe now. Ashley waits for a response as the silence tightens like a noose. The blonde tilts her head in apology, the brunette gives up her cause slamming the door behind her.

The sound of her name being repeated pulls Spencer out of the memory she'll never admit to having. "Spencer, are you ready to shoot this scene?"

She nods. Cracks her neck. Shakes out her hands. Eyes down her scene partner. She doesn't have to fight for it or want it or will it to happen. It's there waiting for the directors command.

When 'action' is called and dialogue begins her blue eyes glisten. She performs the actions flawlessly. Delivers the lines perfectly. And at the moment they will be most effective she lets the tears fall. She gracefully makes her way to the end. When the director calls 'cut' she composes herself, putting to bed the memory of a night she'll swear to you she hasn't thought about in years.


	9. Chapter 9

It is hard to say exactly what renders viewers speechless when Spencer Carlin graces the stage or screen. It could be those sparkling blue eyes that hypnotize us. Shades of blue have never been so inviting, warm, distant, clouded, radiant, jubilant, sad excited and sacred all in the course of two hours. Theatre and movie goers alike rest easy in the knowledge that if she never opens her mouth those eyes will tell them all they need to know.

Carlin's unabashed honesty as a performer may also be the bait that brings us back for more. She has an uncanny ability to choose scripts that will affect and change. It is difficult to not get lost in the worlds she builds. She has the remarkable ability to grab the patron and pull them along each journey. Making them feel as though they themselves have evolved with the characters she plays.

Or is it Carlin's signature head tilt that leaves us spellbound? Like her counter parts on stage, audience members find it difficult to say no to, especially when coupled with a bite of the lip. It is the small attention to detail paid by this young actor that make her characters endearing. It is what keeps us coming back; the effortless way she makes the opening of a door heartfelt. These seemingly insignificant choices make the most despicable characters captivating.

She is one of the few actors today who can interchange stage and screen with a grace and poise to rival Audrey Hepburn. Unpredictable and gorgeous, Carlin is on a fast track to becoming a legend. Starting her career at the tender age of 19, it has been a joy to watch the evolution of such a raw and beautiful talent. It is extremely easy to surrender to her persona. To get lost in the possibilities of her craft. To feel the choice and freedom she puts into even her most caged characters. Then walk away from her show with a sense of wholeness.

But for as much admiration and love the movie/theatre going populous has for the people Carlin has brought to life, how much do we really know about this small town girl turned icon? The most photographed woman today, Carlin is also the least interviewed. Very little is known about her despite mutual admiration of both critics and colleagues alike. How does she do what she does? That question remains to be answered. One thing, however, is for sure, where the name Spencer Carlin is billed, there will be a crowd of admirers panting for a glimpse of this rare talent.


	10. Chapter 10

_"Spencer, darling." Her father calls out in a tone reserved for his little princess. "Spence?" He tip toes around the room searching high and low for his baby girl. She lets out a little giggle as he passes her hiding place. "Where's Spencer?" He calls knowingly walking farther from her giggles. "Is she--behind the curtain?"_

A loud snicker escapes the little girl as she peaks around to see him snatch open the drapes.

"No. She's not there." He says despondently. "Maybe she's behind the TV." Another giggle comes from the girl as she watches her father tip toe to the television.

He gives a silent 1-2-3 count, "Rar!" He screams and she laughs out right. "No not there either." He chances a glance toward her hiding spot under the table by the stairs that hold the family keys. She quickly ducks back burying her head in her lap trying not to explode with laughter.

"Spencey, where are you?" He creeps out of her sight for a moment. "Hmm," she snickers. He slides on past to the kitchen just left of the table. "Well, I guess I'll just have to take Glen for ice cream instead."

She lets out a nervous little gasp as she scurries out.

"I got ya!" He yells picking the toddler up above his head, spinning her around as she laughs hysterically. "You can't hide from me baby girl."

"Haha Daddy, haha. Put me down. Ahhh. Ahhh. Daaaaaaaddy."

He throws her up high. She closes her eyes and squeals. He catches her, then puts her down.

"Do it again, Daddy!"

"Again?" He asks. Nodding she holds out her arms. He grabs her again and throws her high.

Laughing she collapses upon landing. "Again, Daddy, again."

"Again?" He asks bending down, "You want me to do it again?" Teeth gritted he tickles her. She explodes laughing, kicking and flailing.

"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" She cries with laughter.

"Spencer calm down," he says.

"Daddy!"

"Spencer what in the world is the matter with you?" He asks as he continues to tickle her.

"Stop, Daddy, stop."

"I'm not doing anything Spencer."

"Tickle. Daddy stop tickle."

"Oh, that!" He exclaims pulling the girl to her feet.

"Yes that silly Daddy."

He gives her a hug and kiss before standing. "You wanna play again?"

She pouts.

"What Sweetheart?" Her lip protrudes. "Oh, Baby, what's wrong?"

"You said we go the thing if I come out an we go there, get some."

"What?"

She starts to cry.

"You take Glen not me." She pouts on the verge of pitching a fit.

"Baby, I don't know what you want."

"You says him instead Spencer," she cries.

"Glen what? What did I say?" She is unable to answer for sobbing. "Show me, Baby."

She walks calmly to the table at the foot of the stairs where the keys are. "These ones." She hands him the keys, grabs his hands and walks him to the door. "Not take Glen, take me, ice cream."

"Oh," he laughs, "you want ice cream."

"You said."

"Mommy might not like you having a snack before dinner," she pouts, "So make sure you don't tell her, or Glen. Promise?"

"I promise."

"That's my girl. Up you go." He lifts her on to his shoulders and walks out the door.

"Spencer?"

"Yes, Marty?"

"It's time. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"If you must."

"Why this play? I mean Shelia is such a small role."

"There are no small roles, Marty, only small actors with big egos. I am neither, and Shelia is a brilliant part.

"So, the beat on the street is you know Ms. Woods."

"We went to school together."

"You must know that hot rock star sister of hers too, Ashley Davies. Now she is fine."

"I have work to do Marty. Please never talk to me about rock stars who serve no purpose in my life."

Confused he walks away as she sets up for her reading. One day, she'll stop lying to herself. I have faith in her.


	11. Chapter 11

_"I can't believe you brought me here." The brunette droned as she tied up her smock._

"Oh come on it's going to be fun," comforted the blonde.

"Me, my favorite shirt and a bunch of paint are the opposite of fun."

"Stop being such a Debbie Downer."

"When you told me this weeks' date night was going to be colorful I had no idea you meant it literally."

"Oh, shush. It's going to be fun."

"Right."

"Music wine, art. What more do you need?"

"I need to not get paint on my shirt."

"I told you not to wear it."

"But it's date night. I wanted to look hot for you."

"You always look hot to me."

"Well, that's because I am hot."

"And vain."

"I probably think this song is about me."

"Don't cha? Don't cha?"

"Oh, but you like the vain-ness."

"Maybe a little."

"Just a little?"

"Yeah, just a bit."

"Liar."

"Maybe." Spencer grins as she lays the base coat on her canvas. She gets lost in the Harry Connick Jr. echoing through the studio letting her brush strokes match the rhythm of the song. She blends light blue in with dark, mixes them together with a shade in between. She blends them together from the top left corner down to the bottom right making waves of all shades of blue.

"Spencer I am so bad at this." Spencer looked over to see uneven yellow strokes on the rectangle.

"Well, what are you going to do next?" Spencer asked never missing a stroke on her own canvass.

"I don't know. I can't even get the background on with out it looking stupid."

"Just take your time, Hun. Use more water," she went back to her blending. Ashley rolled her eyes and went back to even out the mess she'd made. Spencer worked more and more with her blues until you could not tell where one brush stroke finished and another began. It was just a seeming explosion of violent blue. The eye of a hurricane.

Once the background was the way she wanted, she threw her used brushes into a bin and poured herself a drink. "Yup, that's yellow."

"Shut up."

"What? It is yellow."

"Smart ass."

"But it is yellow."

"You know what else is yellow?"

"What?"

"This," she laughed swiping her brush across the bridge of Spencer's nose.

Spencer squealed, "You did not just do that?"

"Indeed, I did."

"Oh, Davies, you better be glad I'm the one that bought you that shirt or the war would be on."

"You wouldn't dream of it."

"That's what you think. You just wait. When you least expect it I will get my revenge."

"Uh, huh."

"Just wait and see, Ms. Yellow Blob of Nothingness."

"HEY! I'm trying here. It wasn't my idea to come to a painting gallery for four hours on a Friday night." She grumbled, "Waste of a perfectly good evening if you ask me."

"Yeah, but when the nights over you'll have something to remember it by."

"I'd have that if we went to Gray."

"Yeah, it's called a hang over."

"At least that goes away. The damage to my ego wont be so forgiving."

"Ego damage?"

"Yes."

"Ego damage?"

"Yeah. You try doing something you're no good at and see how you like it."

"Oh come on, lighten up. Have a little fun."

"Oh, I'm having a riot alright," she said flipping through an art magazine, "Barrel of laughs."

"You're too much sometimes."

"Don't even act like you don't like it."

Spencer rolled her eyes as she walked over to her flat. "When you look at this what do you see?"

"It looks like some one had a few too many Audios Mutha Fuckers and vomited all over your canvass."

"Har de har har. Really, what do you see?"

"Just, a blue painting." Spencer groaned at the answer. Ashley responded by saying, "One day I'm going to pick those up and roll them back at you."

"You're just a joke a minute aren't you?" She said shaking her head, "relax your eyes, take in the whole picture and tell me what you see."

Ashley stood their for a minute gazing lazily. "If you turn your head to the left it looks like a bird."

"I see a man."

"What?"

"Look at it up right."

She did. "Uhhh...I got nothing."

"You're looking too hard."

"How else am I supposed to look?"

"Look with your whole body."

"What?"

"Just, relax your eyes and use all your senses to see the whole picture."

"You read too many books."

Spencer laughed. "Just try."

"Just show me."

"You learn nothing if I just show you."

"I'm not here to learn, I'm here to be on a date with you and have a little bit of fun. This is just irritating."

"You're irritating," she joked back. "Have a look."

Ashley let out a heavy sigh, cocking her head and taking in the full picture. She let her eyes unfocus, taking in the mass as one big blob. The drowsier her eyes became the less she could see anything. She was just about to give up on this game when something popped out at her. "No. It's not man at all."

"What is it then?"

"Two kids on a beach, running from a storm. See," she pointed in the area where the lovers stood, "Here they are. They're actually much bigger than the storm. They take up most of the space."

"Yeah I can see that."

"And there in the negative space, a storm. Hey that's pretty cool."

"Yeah." she thought, "I still see a man."

"You would."

Spencer looked quizzically at her.

"I don't know what that means," Ashley confessed.

Spencer laughed as she walked over to check the wetness of her canvas.

"Woah woah, you're not gonna paint over it are you?"

"Yeah, it's just the base."

"But it's really cool."

"We still have an hour and I'm not done with it yet."

"But it looks so good."

"And it could be better."

"Whatever."

"What are you gonna put over your yellow?"

"I don't know, maybe I'll draw the outline of a banana."

Spencer laughed hardily. "Banana?"

"Yeah, they're yellow."

"You're supposed to be the creative one in this relationship."

"I am. I'm just no Van Gogh. Apparently that's you." Spencer snickered at the compliment.

"Well, then go paint your banana and let me finish."

"Oh, I'll paint your banana and I'll finish it."

Giggling she said, "You would. And I do_ know what that means." _

"Hey Spencer," Kyla called as she ran after that actress fleeing. "Spencer wait."

"Why didn't you tell me she'd be here?"

"She's the producer, I thought you knew that."

"How can she be the producer? She knows nothing about theatre."

"I didn't think you'd mind."

"I didn't when I was auditioning. Now that I'm not in character, I don't want to have anything to do with her."

"What? Why?"

"Bad blood."

"Stubborn blood."

"What does that mean?'

"You're both too stubborn for your own good. Just, play nice ok. She wont be around a lot, but when she is, just, play nice."

"What?"

"If she comes to rehearsal be nice."

"First of all, I am a professional. Secondly, I got the part?"

"Darling you always had the part. Auditions were just a formality."

Spencer started blushing, "Thanks Ky."

"Oh, come on Spencer. I've thought that by know you'd have noticed how brilliant you are. Marty will email you the rehearsal schedule. The first read through is on Monday. See you there."

"Will Ashley be there?"

"Yes."

"See you Monday then."


	12. Chapter 12

She's gotten up an hour before she should. She takes a hot shower to relax her muscles and clear her head. She has a lot of work she wants to get done before the read through this afternoon. She wants to read through the play a few times. Jot down a few notes. Make some choices about how she sees the character. Decided how she wants to present it to Kyla. Decide how she's going to face Ashley. Decide if she wants to make note of the girls presence or ignore her completely. She wishes to God she wouldn't have to face her at all. On some level she hasn't healed. On some level she wants it all back. On some level she regrets letting it slip through her fingers. But on the surface she'll never admit it.

And why is this? It couldn't possibly be because the three years they spent as a couple were the most amazing fun and stressful years of her life. It's not possibly because she's plagued by chocolate eyes every where she goes. It has nothing to do with the fact that every time she sees wavy brown locks she hopes for the smallest of seconds they are attached to her. It is absolutely under no circumstances because she is still in love with her. No, that's not it at all, how could you think such a thing?

She gets dressed and puts on the minimal amount of make up necessary to drive Ashley wild. Of course, that's not her reasoning for doing so, get that thought out of your head. She walks to the kitchen barefoot, pours her coffee, sits to read.

Sits to read.

Sits to read.

Well, she did sit to read, it's not my fault she keeps staring out the window. I'm just the storyteller, she's the one doing the actions. Well, she's not doing the actions. She's just staring. Staring out the window. The sunlight accentuates her features. The worry line on her forehead brows up as she thinks deeply. Or deeply suppresses memories. It's hard to tell with her these days. She could say "I'll have the salad," and what she really means is, "if i could live any other life I would, because this one is suffocating me." Hell some times when she says, "I'll have a water," she really means, "give me a double chocolate chuck milk shake, with sprinkles."

So now she starts to read.

She starts to read.

She starts to read.

She starts to doodle on her paper. Little hearts and stars and squiggles that look suspiciously like the letter A.

I try not to roll my eyes at her as her own baby blues glaze over and she goes to the place she keeps her secrets, where she tells her lies. Where she lives in the places between sleep and awake. Where she still remembers dreaming innocent childhood dreams. Dreams of 'I love yous' and 'forevers." Of 'never let me goes'. She gets caught up in the memories and she falls back in her chair.

She stares up at the ceiling for some time. Just staring. Surely not thinking about a certain directors sister and the life they used to have together. Surely not. But we all know its not true. We all know she's lots in chocolate. It can't hide from her, at least not the way it hides in her coffee. That, is her best kept secret. She loves the smell, hates the taste, so she masks it with syrup. I'm the only one who knows. Almost. There is one other.

One who she is not thinking about as she pulls her script back out and begins to read.

Begins to read.

She begins to read.

You know she is making it very hard for me to tell her story today. She's not doing anything as usual, or even living in the moment. Which is odd as that is how she earns her keep. I think she better wake up soon or she'll make a lousy first impression. Not that it really matters, every one involved in this project thinks she hung the moon, including Ashley. And that's not just what she wants to believe. It's the truth.

I never quite worked that one out. How two people can be so head over for one another and not be together. Hell, not even admit they want to be together. Though I can't say I blame them. They grew up to be very different people. To live very different lives, in completely opposite circles. I find though, that if they were to just sit back in the lazy boy and listen with their whole bodies, they would see the solution that I do.

I can't just go tell Spencer that. She wouldn't listen. And it wouldn't mean as much to her when she does finds it. Now if we could just figure out away to get her to admit that she is not reading her play right now because she can't stop thinking about Ashley. Not because the jet streams make pretty pictures in the sky. Though that is what she's trying to convince herself of right now.

She shakes her head back into reality and starts to read.

She starts to read.

She starts to read.

Ok, Kid, read the play or stop trying. This is tedious and getting old. I am starting to lose patience with you.

Shame she can't hear me.

Some times it sucks being the one on the outside looking in. There's such a clarity in my chair. It's so straightforward. I wonder why she can't see it. Why its not as easy for her to find. Narrating is a tough job. Some times I wonder why I do it. When I walk around the world, I see things. I can't help it. And I can't turn it off. I just feel the way a rosebud sounds, I can taste the way the bells chime and I hear the way chocolate smells.

The chocolate in her glass smells like Ashley. Smells like her vanilla lotion and herbalessence shampoo. Smells like warm summer nights on the beach and winter getaways to Aspen. It smells like fighting and making up. It smells like the tears in Spencer's eyes.

I want to hug her, but that would be crossing a line. I could lose my job for that. She could lose hers if she doesn't get a move on soon. And she notices too, grabs her script and bounds out the door. She catches the first taxi she can. She skims the one scene she is in. She worries that won't be enough.

I just want to shake her and say, "it's just a read through." It'd also be nice to remind her that she is Spencer Carlin. The Spencer Carlin. The rawest talent to explode on stage and screen in female form this generation. She is so much in a class of her own, people forget she's the same age as Brittany Spears, Lindsay Lohan and what's her name who's father owns all those hotels. She forgets that all she has to do is smile and their hearts will melt.

It might be hard for her to smile today though. Her biggest weakness is slated to be in the room. I'm not looking forward to telling that story.

Oh who am I kidding, It'll be a tale for the books, and I wouldn't miss it for the world.


	13. Chapter 13

_Two bodies tangled together in sweat. Heavy breathing is absorbed by Snuggles the Bear and his army of stuffed toys. The sheets lay abandoned at the foot of the bed. They work quickly together feeding love and lust. Because they know they are one in the same. You love someone so you lust after them or you lust after someone then you love them. The order doesn't matter because the outcome is the same. Two bodies in hyper drive trying to cool themselves. Blood pumping faster than Pheidippides. Endorphins elevate euphoria. Lying in ecstasy with the one you have the L's for._

Take time, tease, touch, taste at a tantalizing tempo.

Measure magnetize, multiply moaning to maximize mirth.

Finger fast forcing friction frantically finding fulfillment.

Lust or love, slow moderate or rapid, all paths lead to one destination: orgasm. There is nothing better than taking that road trip with someone you care about. Care trumps love every time, and she knows this.Because she says she doesn't love her any more, but she knows she never stopped caring.  
_  
_She knows that care drove them apart not lost, love or lack their of. Even if she tells herself she doesn't she does because she is thinking about it. She's thinking about two warm bodies pressed together greedy tongues tasting private places_. Paces changing to evoke reactions. Testing limits just to see how far they go, then pulling back drastically to hear begging. Pleading for the pressure to return. Smilingly menacingly and refusing to give what is being asked. Merely pulling back to zero accelerating slowly to 60. Building up more pressure. Forcing the current to test the levee. To ooze over the top. When they can no longer be contained take a sledgehammer at break neck speeds to effectuate the mission._

Then collapse in labored breathing onto the completely satisfied. Letting the beating of two hearts drum a lullaby.

Sleep is not that easily earned. Not with these two. The blond is nearing unconsciousness when the brunette gingerly slides her fingers up her thigh. The blond gasps, and 'racers on your mark, get set, go.' But the gun doesn't go off that easily. They both know tricks. How to use them to torture and then tranquilize.

They play. It is frustratingly fun. They'd have it no other way. Akin to this moment. It frustrates her to think of Ashley, but she can't help herself. She's masochistic that way.

Because what else would explain her sitting in this room with 10 other people daydreaming about a sex life that ended three years ago? What else would explain her choosing a chair opposite to that partner? What else would explain the stolen glances? What else would explain her taking this role over the one bound to give her her third Tony Award?

She's a masochist, and she likes it that way.


	14. Chapter 14

The read through has ended. The designers, crew heads and actors have started to trickle out. Kyla stands over Ashley's shoulder explaining theatrics she didn't quite catch. Or really justifying costs to her financier. In actuality she's making sure the other artists leave the room with out hassling the pair of stars still sitting. Spencer sits with her head buried in her script. For such a great actor she sure is doing a lousy job convincing them she is actually reading. Ashley sits tapping her pencil on the table. Also doing a lousy job pretending to listen to what her sister is saying.

Her eyes are focused on the girl in front of her. She bites her lip, debates speaking. Kyla says something to her, she doesn't quite catch it, just stares at the blonds scalp. A gentle squeeze on her shoulder breaks her trance. She looks up to see her sister grab her books then follow the last man out, closing the door behind her.

Ashley goes back to tapping her pencil, staring intently at Spencer's scalp wondering if it still smells April fresh. She drums out the cadence of her latest single using her empty hand to compliment. It's an uneven beat. It grades her a little so she bites her lip to cope.

Spencer stars blankly at the text in front of her. Ashley's trick is not working. The uneven timbre only annoys her. I guess Ashley doesn't know actors have uncanny concentration.

Three chart toppers later she stops drumming. Spencer closes her script, looks on at the cover. Takes in the play name, author and publishing company. The block letters of the keep her gaze for some minutes. The 'g' in the play wrights name looks a bit off to her. Just as Ashley thinks Spencer has taken in as much information as is possible and is about to speak, the latter begins reading the copyright information.

Ashley leans forward onto her elbows thinking 'you cannot be serious.' But she is very serious. Spencer takes in every word. Ashley never breaks her gaze. Spencer feels the intensity of Ashely's stare grow. Spencer's face turns bright red, but she is still unmoving.

So in the fifteen minutes since the director's exit they realise they're in a dead lock. The question becomes who will speak first and what will they say? Will it stay civil and on topic? Will they go with nostalgia? "Do you remember when...?" Will it be vindictive? Will they even speak? They are both very stubborn.

The heater runs loudly engulfing the silence, leaving behind a faint scent of musk. Ashley sighs heavily. Spencer methodically turns the pages. She scribbles notes. Ashley thinks they are about the play. In reality she's not actually reading, so she's not really writing. Rather than initial observations and concerns they pad reads: Plants need watering, auditions for the new Shyamalan film next week. Why does she keep staring at me? Call Glen for his birthday on Sunday. I should pick up Vietnamese for diner. Why wont she stop staring at me?!?

Ashley shifts around in her seat sighing in irritability. She knows she could end this torture but she wont. She's too proud. She's scared to death as well. She sitting right where she wants to be. She's afraid of being there. Whether it's because she's scared of not getting what she wants or petrified of having it back.

"Don't you have some where to be?" Spencer asks.

"No."

"No wild party?"

"No."

"No girl to sleep with?"

"No."

"Really, cause from what I can tell you've been with most of the Western sea board."

"Excuse me for enjoying the perks of being single."

"What are you doing producing a play? You know nothing about theatre."

"What are you doing acting in an off-off Broadway play? Don't you have awards to receive and the hearts of America to win."

"It's called artistic integrity and developing as a performer, you should try it some time. Ya know, instead of getting stoned and screwing whatever walks into your dressing room."

Ashley bits her lip and stares nodding her head. She can't bare to keep the gaze of her counterpart so she drops her head, gathers her belongings, and heads to the door.

She reaches out for the knob, turns back for one final glance. Just before slamming the door behind her she whispers "It's better than shutting the world out."


	15. Chapter 15

_She slams her fists on the table then runs hurriedly to the door. The wind from the speedy opening blows her blond hair into her face, "Wait!" She calls with urgency. The girl in front of her turns on her heels, but she doesn't speak. "Please don't go," the blond begs. The smaller girl doesn't move, just stares. "Come back in side?" The girl crosses her arms. "Please?"_

"Why? So you can berate me some more?"

"I'm not berating you."

"Then what would you call it?" She fires back unmoving.

"I'm just trying to talk to you."

"But you're not talking."

"Yes I am."

"No, you are yelling at me."

The blond rubs her forehead trying to come up with the best plan of action. She needs something neutral enough to put out this fire, but honest enough to get her point across without causing a nuclear explosion. "Just come back in, we'll have a cup of tea and discuss this like rational adults."

"I don't like tea."

"Then have coffee!" She says more frustrated than she meant.

"And you say you know me. You want to tell me what to do? What's best for me? How can you possibly know what's best for me when you don't even know that I hate tea and coffee makes me sick!?!"

"Spencer, please--"

"No, Mom, I don't care what you have to say about this. I love Ashley. She loves me. Don't you want me to be happy?"

"Yes, but Spencer, there is a right and wrong way to--"

"No, Mom. There's you're way and another way. Doesn't make it wrong."

"But Spence-"

"No, Mom, I'm not gonna stand here and listen to you yell at me."

"So you're just gonna go run into that girls arms?"

She takes purposeful steps that cause her mother to step back. "Her name, is Ashley. If she's going to accept me for who I am then I'd much rather be in her arms than drinking coffee at your table. I don't like being made to feel sick.

"You don't have to drink coffee."

"No, Mom, you make me sick."

Paula looks as though she's just been punched in the stomach, Spencer doesn't notice, as she is halfway down the driveway already.

"Spencer Carlin!" She yells, "we do not go to bed angry in this family."

Without looking back she calls, "stay up forever for all I care."

"Spencer?"

"Yes, Kyla?"

"What just happened?"

"Nothing."

"My sister just stormed out swearing, you're sitting here crying and nothing happened?"

"That about sums it up."

"Spencer you know you can talk to me."

"I do. And if I have questions about Shelia, you'll be the first person I ask."

"You know what I mean."

"I do, and I don't want to talk about it."

"This isn't going to affect my play is it?"

"Your play? You wrote this?"

"No, but--"

"Then it's not your play."

"You know what I mean."

"I do, but it's still not your play."

"Is your history going to affect this production?"

"What were you thinking Kyla? 'Bring in America's Sweetheart and I'll get the directorial acclaim I deserve'?"

"How can you say that?"

"There are thousands of actresses trying to make a name for themselves who are more than capable of this role."

"Then why did you take it?"

"Why is she involved?"

"I had to pay your salary some how."

"Then why did you hire me?"

"Because I've always wanted to work with you."

"I could have gotten you a job on any of my projects."

"I wanted to direct you."

"You think I couldn't have managed that?"

"Oh come on, no ones going to hire a no-name to direct the kind of plays you're notorious for staring in."

"For a person in show biz you are really bad at selling yourself."

"For a person with 2 Academy Awards you sure are bad at acting like you're not still in love with my sister."

"Is that what you think?"

"Yes. And I think she's really bad at acting like she's not still in love with you. So whatever battle of wills you're playing with her you need to end it so it doesn't ruin my big shot to cross over into commercial theatre." And with that Kyla leaves Spencer sitting alone staring at the cover of her Dramatics Play Service script. Alone and defeated, but not down and out. She's too much of a fighter to ever lose.


	16. Chapter 16

_"So I was wondering," Ashley said as she wrapped her arms around Spencer, lightly kissing the base of her neck, "if we could stay in instead?" She sucked long and slowly on Spencer's neck making the girl grin._

"Baby, you know we have to go."

"If we stayed in, I'd make it worth your while," she said coyly

"I'm sure you would, but Aiden would kill us if we did go to his birthday party."

"He'll have other birthdays," she said nibbling on the girls ear.

"But he only turns 19 once."

"What's so important about 19?" She said kissing her again.

"Ashley, I did not come over here to make out."

"It's why you usually come."

"It is not."

"Spence come on," Ashley whined.

"No you come on, we only have thirty minutes before we have to be there, and you're only half dressed."

"Have I taught you nothing," she kissed her again, causing the blond to smile. "Being on time, is not cool. Late, now that's cool."

"Late means you don't care enough to be on time," she said pulling away.

"Not true."

"Right."

"Spencer," Ashley smirked, "you're just gonna have to redo that make up you know." She slid her hands around Spencer's love handles, giving them a squeeze.

Spencer giggled as she pulled away, "Seriously, Ashley, if you don't stop I'll never get ready and we'll be late."

"Spence," she pouted.

"No."

'Spence," she whined.

"For as cute as you are when you do that." Spencer said smirking, "no."

"I bet I can change your mind."

"I bet you could try."

"I'm pretty sure I can do it."

"I'm pretty sure you won't."

Ashley grinned at the challenge, "Well, you know--"

"Hands off Ashley," Spencer glanced threateningly.

"Spence, why?"

"Because I do not want to go to Aiden's party smelling like sex."

DING

_Ashley grabbed Spencer from behind, spinning her around, giggling._

"Ash, Ash, Ash, let me go let me go."

"Nope,"

"Ash, please, let me down."

"Give me one good reason."

"I'm going to throw up."

Ashley hastily dropped Spencer on to the bed, "Don't even puke on me, this is a $600 jacket."

"What did you expect me to do, we just ate and you were spinning me around."

Ashley rolled her eyes and plopped down next to the blond, "We'll how else was I supposed to get you to stay?"

"Ashley I can't stay you know that."

"Why not Spencer?" Ashley pouted, "We've been dating for almost a year, and you've never stayed over."

"You know I can't Ash."

Ashley snuggled up to Spencer, "Yes you can, baby, you just put on some pj's and stay in my warm bed, cuddled up next to me. Maybe make out with me once or twice."

"Ash, for as tempting as that sounds, I just can't."

"Baby, why not?"

"Hello, have you met my mother?"

"Yes, but I don't get why that means you can't spend the night with me."

"You think she'd let Glen spend the night with Madison."

"Ugh, I don't even want to think about the Jockstrap and the Cheerbreader," she gagged, "Thanks Spence, now I'm officially not in the mood."

"That's kinda what I was going for."

"Spence," she whined.

"Ash, you know I want to, but I've been late for curfew three times this week."

"Twice."

"No three."

"No, twice."

"Are you forgetting about the drive way?"

"Oh, yeah." She blushed, "you were late?"

"Yeah, and I was told if I didn't come on time tonight, I wouldn't see you for a month."

"Oh you'll come on time alright," Ashley said straddling Spencer as she pinned the girls arms down, pressed her head deep into the pillow.

"Ash, Ash, Ash" Spencer said between kisses. "Ashley," she pushed the brunette next to her. "I have to go, Mom means it this time."

"She means it every time."

"Yeah, but this time my car's riding on it," Spencer said as she put her shoes on. "And since I'm the only kid in the house now, It's kinda important that I have access to my car. And if I remember correctly, you quite like the backseat of my car."

"I do indeed."

"Well, then let me go home." 

DING

"Spencer you should go."

"I'm fine."

"No you're not."

"I am."

"Spencer."

"What?"

"You're not fine."

"Ok, I'm not fine." She said throwing her book on the table, "is that what you want to hear?"

"Not in that condescending tone you're using."

"Better than nothing."

"No, actually it's not. Because instead of you dealing with it, you're getting angry and you're going to start a fight."

"I'm not going to start a damn fight."

Ashley pulled up a chair, "Ok."

"What?" Spencer yelled, "Don't just sit there looking at me like that. Like you're afraid of making sudden movements."

"What do you want me to do Spencer? Provoke you into a fight? Chances are pretty good you're not gonna be talking about what's actually bothering you anyway, so why should I bring that torment onto myself?"

"I torment you?" She asked hurt.

"See, no matter what I do you're gonna fight,"

"Well, how am I supposed to react?"

Ashley sat in silence for a minute. "This is not my fault."

"It's not my fault either."

"You said yes."

"You did too."

"She's my sister."

"She's my friend."

"You have a career."

"You do too."

"Yeah, one that you almost took from me."

"That I almost took from you? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"And I'm the one starting the fights," Spencer seethed.

"Whatever Spencer, you know what happened."

"That was not my fault, Ashley."

"Yeah, well it happened."

"I didn't ask for it to happen, I didn't want it to happen but it happened and here we both are."

"Yes here we both are," Ashley gritted, "sitting on different sides of the table. Again. Not able to speak to each other, again. Not able to say what we're really feeling, again. Not trying to say what's on our minds, again. We're here again."

"No, we are nothing. We, doesn't exist. We ended a long time ago, Ashley. You did that."

"What was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know and I don't care. But what I do care about is how this is going to happen."

"What?"

"This production. This show for Kyla. How is it going to keep happening, if every time you show up for rehearsal we end up in a locked room together?"

"I didn't bring us here."

"Neither did I," Spencer said sitting down, "but here we are."

"This is Kyla's fault. She told me there were free donuts back here."

"She told me I was going to look at costume renderings."

Silent moments became minutes and the tension became unbearable. They sat staring deeply in to one another's eyes. The silence spoke all the words they daren't whisper. All the things they wanted to take back, the sorry's they wanted to say, the I miss you's, but neither could speak, because neither trusted themselves, and neither are sure why. "I love you. I hate you. I need you. Go away. I miss you. You suck. I have to be with you for the rest of my life."

They're both really unsure which they want to say. So they sit. Stare. They sit and stare at each other until Spencer gets called for a blocking rehearsal. Then Ashley sits alone, doodling on a note pad, blankly staring into space, thinking, how crazy this all is. All of it. Right back to the beginning. All the way back to when her biggest issue was trying to convince Spencer to give in to the passion. When Paula was the demon and Glen was an ass. When the world didn't know either of their names. When they could walk down the side walk holding hands.

Now they can't even speak to each other, let alone sit in the same atmosphere. And she can't help wishing nothing ever happened. Or that she could get it all back. More than anything, she wishes she could have it all back. While she does admit it, she'll never say it out loud.

But hey, she's admitting it, that's better than the blond girl.


	17. Chapter 17

She's tucked herself away high above all the action, up where it's safe. Up where she can finally be invisible. Up where no one, apart for the master electrician, can find her. She stares down on the empty stage and she lets her mind fill up with so many wonderful thoughts. So many lovely ideas. She marks it all out in her head as though the actions were pawns on a chess board. She sees the things that aren't there, envisions the statements that can be made, and unlocks the secrets of the empty stage.

She watches her friend, the director, map out a story. She hears, vaguely, the orders being given. She studies the actors as the move around like ants. She watches from her perch on the catwalk to get a new perspective on the show. To see it like no one else will ever see it. To understand the traffic patterns better than any one. To get away from eyes that bore into her.

Eyes that have seen her at her most vulnerable. Eyes that have torn her to bits with the slightest glance. Eyes that have lifted her higher than she ever thought possible. Eyes that can read her mind. Eyes that can stop her breath. Eyes that cause her to cry. Eyes that make her heart skip a beat. Beautiful brown eyes that burn into her flesh with even the most benign gaze.

A producers gaze. The gaze of someone wanting to know their money is going to the right place. Someone wanting to know that time is being used effectively. Someone who wants only the best on stage. Someone that doesn't even know the first thing about theatre, but knows everything about her.

Everything about her past. Her youth in Ohio. That she could speak in complete sentences before age one. That she was reading by her third birthday. How she learned to ride a bike when she was four. That her first scar came from the day she got her training wheels off. She knows she carried a My Little Pony lunch pale and slept with a Cabbage Patch Doll. She's seen pictures of the denim jacket she wore to the first day of junior high. The one she thought would look cool with a sequined butterfly on the back.

A producer who knows the details of her first sexual experiences, right down to the tears she cried and the regret that consumed her 15 year old body. A producer who knows the anxious feelings moving to L.A. caused her. The uncertainty she felt as she came to terms with her sexuality. The guilt placed on her by her mother. The death of her brother. The demise of her parents relationship.

A producer shouldn't know that much about an actor.

But that's where it stops. The producer doesn't know much more about Spencer after high school apart from what she's read in magazines, and that's sugar coated hearsay. Or that's what Spencer hopes Ashley believes about it all. That's how she chooses to see the print ups of Ashley anyway. She likes to believe in the best of people. She likes to believe that we all have redeeming qualities. It's the naive eight year old that still resides comfortably in her heart that chooses this.

It's the part of her that will never die no matter how badly the faith gets beat out of her. It's the part of her that knows her brother still looks after her. The part of her that knows her parents once loved each other, even if all they do now is fight. The part of her that believes people read flyer's handed to them on the street. The part of her that believes in helping hands for those in need. The part of her that believes people stop at stop signs when no one else is around. The part of her that believes she can eat as much Strawberry Cheesecake Ice cream as is possible, and that if no one is looking the calories don't count. It's the part of her that knows chocolate brown eyes can melt her soul, and that she will never be over Ashley no matter how hard she tries.

As she sits up here high above the world of fakes and liars she tells herself the truth. "I am still in love with Ashley Davies, and I probably always will be."

And from a distance high above the world she watches the girl she never quite learned how to stop loving run her fingers through her curly locks and she knows she is bored. She knows the girl would rather be a million other places because she's resting her head on her hand, an action she seldom does. One reserved for the task of keeping herself from falling asleep. One Spencer had seen her do a million times in Mrs. Murdock's British Literature class.

Spencer catches her self wishing she was sitting next to her, to keep her company, play a game of tic tac toe or MASH, the way they used to in Mr. Glass's Trigonometry class. She catches herself wishing she could sneak Ashley's hand into hers the way they would during movies Coach Driggers would play in health class. She catches herself wishing that head was laid on her shoulder, the way it would be on class field trips. She catches herself wanting more than anything to have the Calvin Klein perfume drive her wild. She can barely smell that scent with out thinking about Ashley.

Ashley: a name that echos with every palpitation of her heart. High above the world on her lonesome perch she can admit, "I am in love with her." She can look down and smile on Ashley. She can remember the way things where before the world got ripped apart. She can love all her faults and all her attributes. She can feel her breath on her neck. She can sense her soft hands on her arms. She can taste her lip gloss and feel the weight of the girl on top of her. She can feel the butterflies jump in her stomach when the girl below stretches her legs out on the chair in front of her. Spencer jumps back as Ashley stretches. She's afraid her safe place will be lost if Ashley sees her sitting here.

Sitting here 50 feet above the stages floor enjoying the space. Fifty feet above creativity or confusion, but mostly both. Fifty feet of solitude. Of the single existence of one soul trying to make sense of things. Trying to have a life free from prying eyes. Oddly enough the hunted becomes the hunter, though she scarcely sees it that way. I think its funny though, the thing she hates is the thing she becomes each time she climbs up the ladder in the alley. But 50 feet above the world I guess there are no real rules.

She is spying on the ensemble below. She's learning the way they work, their quirks, their bad habits, their tricks, how they respond to the director, how she responds to them. She's getting an edge on them all. Learning how she should respond to each of them to get what she needs from them to have a successful process. She's not the best for nothing you know. She works hard. Studies hard. Plays hard.

Because that's what it is. That's the word; play. She's decided that this is it. This is what it always has been, and it's what it will continue to be. Despite the presence of a certain brunette in the fifth row looking sexy as ever in her leather boots propped on the seat in front of her. She will play, she will have fun, she will enjoy this experience.

She won't let Ashley get under her skin. She won't let her knock her off her game. She won't let her get a rise out of her. She won't let on that she still has feelings for the young rock star. Not while this show is still in production. Not while Kyla is still counting on her. Not while the eyes of the world are boring into her. Not yet.

But she knows she will eventually. She knows she has too. She has to because that is the only reason she took on this gig. She's not here to help her friend or deepen her artistic integrity like she claims. No, she's here for one reason, to try to win back the girl she watched walk away less than a decade ago. The girl she's watched go on to win her way in to the beds of girls all across the country as she silently carries on.

She's realizing now for the first time, it's not because she's trying to save her reputation. She's not keeping her sexuality secret from the press. She's pining over Ashley. She always has been. Probably always will be, at least until she grows some balls and does something about it.

She will though, I have faith in her. She does things in her own time, in her own way and at her own speed. It took looking down on Ashley from the catwalk of a rundown theatre to get her to realize she's still in love with her. Who knows what it'll take for her to do anything about it. But she knows now. And as G.I. Joe would say, "knowing is half the battle."

Let's just just hope she figures out the other half of the battle before there are casualties. I think she will, but I am a hopeless optimist. Probably my biggest flaw. But I, too, am like Spencer. I believe in the good of humanity. It's there if you choose to see it. It will come out eventually. No one is too bad to be saved. Just have a little faith. And I do. I have faith in her.


	18. Chapter 18

_Spencer hoisted herself up in a huff. Pausing, panting, desperate for water. "Baby?"_

"Y-yeah?" Came the breathless reply.

"Are you ok?" She gasped for air.

"Y-yeah," the brunette managed.

"We're almost there baby," she picked up her pace moving in and out quickly her girlfriend moving at the same pace.

"Baby," Ashley groaned, "baby please."

"Just a little more," she encouraged.

"We've been at it for hours."

"We can't stop now Ash. We're so close."

"Spence, please?" Ashley begged, "I'm starting to cramp."

"We're so close baby."

"I can't keep this up much longer."

"Yes you can, Sweetheart," Spencer pulled herself closer to her goal, more determined than ever to peak with Ashley below her. It was a goal they had long since set for themselves. She was going to push until they got there.

"Seriously, Spencer," Ashley whined, "my arms can't take much more."

"Just keep pushing, Baby, we're almost there."

"Baby," she panted near tears.

"If you stop now, we'll never start again," she said taking a firm grip on the rope.

"Can we just stop for water?"

"Just keep moving forward, Ash. I can see the summit."

"Spencer."

"Rest at the top baby."

"Just ten minutes."

"In ten minutes we'll be there, and there'll be hardly any light. You can do this Baby, I promise."

"I can't believe, I let you talk me into, going mountain climbing, on Spring break," she panted, "we so, could have been, in Cabo, instead of, freezing to death, while sweating up a storm."

"If you stop talking," she spat back, "you'd save energy."

"My arms really hurt"

"Rest them at the top."

Spencer pushed on in silence, digging her cleats into the rock, pulling up the weight of both her and her partner. Strong and resilient, more than prepared for this trip. Eyes on the prize, no giving up. Ashley trudged along behind her.  
  
"Ms. Carlin, Ms. Woods is ready for your scene."

"Is Ms. Davies still out there?"

"Barely," the assistant stage manager answered barely stifling a snicker.

Laughing Spencer asked, "What do you mean?"

"She can't sit still and she won't stop talking. Ms. Woods keeps telling her to shut up. That pisses her off. So she tried to pick a fight." The young woman started laughing.

"What is it?"

"Ms. Woods sent her to buy donuts and coffee for everyone."

"I'm sure that really pissed her off."

"She actually seemed pretty excited to leave the theatre." she grinned, "but, she was pissed off when Ms. Woods wouldn't let her have any."

Spencer catching her breath asked, "Don't tell her I laughed?"

The stage manager nodded as she headed back to the house. Spencer grabbed her book and headed for the stage. "This is going to be fun," she thought.

Walking through the green room she grabs a Boston Creme, trying very hard not to laugh, she walks down stage center. With a mouth full she says, "Ready when you are Kyla."

It took all of her self control not to laugh at a very pouty Ashley sitting in the third row, her feet propped on the chairs in front of her, left over right, arms crossed staring at the wall grumpily.

"I'll let you finish your snack," Kyla grinned, "then we'll go. Norman needed a restroom break."

"Not a problem," Spencer swallowed, "Do you think I have time to get some coffee?"

"Sure," Kyla grinned, "Ashley, get Spencer a cup of coffee."

Ashley looked at her like she had three eyes.

"The stage mangers are busy," Kyla offered.

Ashley mumbled a few obscenities as she kicked her way out of the house.

"So, Spencer," Kyla began, "are you ready to make my day?"

"I'm ready to try."

"I'm sure you'll do just fine," she smiled, "now the apartment entrance is up stage left. You'll be there for a few minutes while Norman does stage business. When you do come in, I want you to own it. Shelia's the only girl in this world, that makes you special."

"Okay."

"You've never been here before, so really take it in. It's an anomaly to you. Really explore it."

"Alright."

"The down stage left door leads to Arnold's room, just so you know."

"Right, want to keep away from there."

"Yup. Do you know why he scares you?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to share or--"

"I'd like to keep it a secret."

"Okay, that's fine. As long as you know."

The stage door slams heavily as Ashley stomps on stage. "Here's your coffee," she grumbled.

"Thank you, Ms. Davies."

With a grimace Ashley mumbles, "You're welcome, Ms. Carlin."

_"I knew you'd make it just right," she panted taking a long pull from her water jug._

Collapsing beside her Ashley breathed, "I cannot believe I just climbed up that mountain."

"Feels good doesn't it?"

Taking the water from Spencer she said, "anything with you feels good."

Giggling Spencer said, "Glad to see mountain climbing doesn't hinder your ability to flirt."

"It's not my fault sweat looks good on you."

"You're such a perv."

"Yeah, but I'm your perv."

"Mhmm,"

"What? I can't help it."

"Right."

"I can't, you're hot."

"You say that now, but what about when I"m old and gray?"

"Live fast, die young, leave a good looking corpse."

"That is so morbid."

"I will still love you when you're wrinkly and gray."

"I sure hope so," Spencer grinned, "I can't imagine my life without you."

"You'll never have to babe," she kissed her, "promise." 


	19. Chapter 19

Rehearsal has ended, the majority of the cast and crew have left for the evening. The assistant stage manager is locking away the first aid kit. The Stage Manager and Kyla are going over notes that must appear in the rehearsal report. Ashley, the ever interested producer, lays slumped in the third row, eighth seat from the right, feet propped in the ninth, sound asleep.

Spencer sits quietly on the lip of the stage making notes. She marks moments that felt right, moments she wants to play with more and moments she thought flat out sucked and needed to be changed completely. Understanding this was the first blocking rehearsal she decides not to bring it to Kyla straight away. She'd rather work them a bit more herself and give it an honest try, before bringing her ideas to the table.

She's zoned out with her book in her hands so it startles her when she feels a light tap on her shoulders.

"Do you need something Spence?"

"Nah, I"m fin Kyla, thanks."

"Hampton's ready to lock up."

"Oh, I'm sorry I hadn't realized how late it'd gotten."

"No it's fine. We just finished. I think he has a date or something though, cause he's eager to leave. He even volunteered to wake up Ashley."

"He did what!?!"

"Clearly, he has no idea who he's messing with."

"Clearly," just as the words came out of her mouth there came the growling of a ferocious beast.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Davies, but I need to lock up."

"So lock up!"

"I can't leave you in here."

"Why not?"

"It's against the rules."

"Who cares about rules?"

"I do and so does my union. Ms. Woods and Ms. Carlin are waiting for you."

"Ms. Carlin?" She asks looking up to find the blond blushingly smacking her director, as though it was her fault he busted her out. "Alright, fine. Get your hands off me." She swatted him away, "you could have woken me up," she tells her sister.

"He volunteered."

"And you didn't have to wait for me," she rounds on Spencer.

"I didn't."

And the awkward silence begins. Kyla grabs the stack of research she lovingly calls the bible and eases out, "see you guys later."

"Wait, where are you going?" Ashley asked kind of pathetically.

"To my office to do work, so I can go home to my boyfriend and relax. You should try it."

"Who? Me?" They ask in unison.

"Yes, you," she smiles prancing out.

Awkward moments pass after Kyla's exit. The pair stand looking at one another's feet.

"Ladies?"

"Jesus Christ, Hampton," Spencer jumps, "You scared the shit outta me."

"I"m really sorry, but you have to leave Ms. Carlin or I won't be able to have you in for rehearsal tomorrow. And you, just have to leave because I'm ready to go home."

Spencer smiles sweetly as she collects her things. Ashley scowls as she stomps out the stage door.

"Thank you for your hard work Hampton," Spencer smiles as she too, makes her way out the stage door.

"You're welcome, Ms. Carlin," he replies locking the door behind her, "see you tomorrow."

The smell of nicotine wafts as wind blasts on her face giving her a chill. "Why in the hell are you doing that?"

"Because I feel like it."

"It's not like you use your voice for a living or anything."

"I don't think I like sarcasm on you."

"I know I don't like nicotine on you."

"Well, then it's a good thing you don't live with me."

"Yeah, good thing."

"You eat pie?"

"What?"

"Pie. Pie. You eat right?"

"Yeah."

"Jerry's has great pie."

"Oh?"

"You want to get some?"

"Okay."


	20. Chapter 20

_There ain't no reason things are this way. Its how they always been and they intend to stay. I can't explain why we live this way, we do it everyday. Preachers on the podium speakin' of saints. Prophets on the sidewalk beggin' for change. Old ladies laughing from the fire escape, cursing my name. I got a basket full of lemons and they all taste the same, a window and a pigeon with a broken wing, You can spend your whole life workin' for something, just to have it taken away._

Bells cling as the door closes behind them. They walk forward to the tempo of the soulful song coming from the jukebox. The black and white checkerboard floor sticks to her feet as Spencer dutifully follows Ashley to a booth in the back right corner of the shop.

"This is a quaint little place," Spencer says stirring cream into her coffee.

"And way under the radar."

"I'm not worried about being seen in public with you."

"Didn't say you were."

"I'm just letting you know."

"They have the best pie here."

"Why did I not know about this place?"

"Well, when you live in an ivory tower it's hard to know anything about the world of normal people."

"First of all it was rhetorical, and secondly what do you know about the world of normal people?"

"First of all, that was my answer, and secondly a lot more than you."

"Oh, that's right, you've slept with the majority of the normal people in the country in the last year."

"At least I don't act like something I'm not."

"Something you're not? You're a rock legacy acting like you know what normal people do, and you want to talk to me about being things that you're not?"

"Nope, I want to eat some pie."

Spencer snickered despite herself, "What are the choices?"

"Apple, cherry, pecan and banana."

"Banana pie?"

"Pudding, banana pudding. It's very tasty."

"I believe ya."

A young man walks over to take their order, "One pecan, one cherry and a refill on the coffee," Ashley tells him. He scribbles down the order, turns on his toes as he heads back to Moe the balding cook with a beer belly and sweat mustache.

Not a pleasant thing to think about and if Spencer knew she would be absolutely applaud. Sweat beaded lip cook would be more than enough reason for her to leave, however she's more preoccupied by the fact that Ashley took the liberty of ordering for her.

She stares on the girl with disdain at worse, self righteous amusement at best, but she doesn't say anything.

"You're going to love this pie. It's the best in New York." Ashley says completely oblivious to the look on Spencer's face.

Being reminded of the reasons their affair ended causes the easy feeling in Spencer to bubble. Her rose colored glass slowly start to shatter. "Sounds good," she replies, still unable to be honest.

And it begins again.

"So you think my sister has what it takes?"

"Has what it takes? She's already an accomplished director."

"I mean do you think she has what it takes to cross over to where the big boys play?"

"You mean will she be famous?"

"When you put it that way you make me sound vain."

"There's nothing wrong with wanting the best for her. Being on top isn't always the best though."

"You would know."

"You never seemed to mind it."

Ashley snorted into her cup, "no, that never bothered me."

Spencer nodded her head, pleased at the memory. "What does Kyla want?"

"To be an actor. She hates directing."

"She's so very good at it."

"Well, you asked what she wanted."

"True," Spencer concedes, unsure of which thought in her head she should say.

She chooses none of them.

"I don't know why she keeps doing it."

"Gotta pay the bills,"

"Spencer, please, she's the co-heir of Raif Davies."

"Some people want to get by on their own merit."

"What does that mean?" Ashley asked slightly put off.

"It means I think she's smart to save her inheritance for retirement. It'll make her a better artist to work her way up from the bottom anyway."

"What do you know about working your way up from the bottom?"

"Why do you ask so many questions?"

"No retort huh, Moment Stealer."

"Moment Stealer? Is that the best you got?"

"You know it's true Spencer."

"How's it true?"

"Who's gig was it? Who's show? Who was playing for labels that night?"

"What does your audition have to do with my acting career?"

"Why do you answer a question with another question?"

"Why are you doing it too?" Silence ensues for just a beat then Ashley jumps into a tirade, "You steal my big moment, now you're stealing my annoying antics."

"You can keep them and your pie. I'm leaving."

"No, Spence," Ashley reaches out to take her hand.

A spark of electricity lights up the blondes eyes and the brunette recoils immediately.

Ashley thinks it's an angry spark in the girls eyes. I know it's passion igniting. That's why I'm not surprised when she sits back down.

"I didn't come out here to fight with you," Spencer explains in a low slow tone.

"I know," Ashley replies, "you came for the pie."

Spencer giggles despite herself, again. "I haven't even had the pie yet."

"I know you Carlin, you're a sucker for gooey pecan pie."

"True story," she grins as the boy serves them.

Ashley laughs

It feels like home.

Content in the moment Spencer digs in. Ashley closes her eyes to take in the moment. Etching in her memory banks another picture of the blonde smiling at her. She pines to have this moment everyday.

She, too, pines for this moment every day.

They silently enjoy the warm creamy goodness of Moe's finest pie.

They don't say what they're thinking.

They don't dare venture down that road.

Perhaps they dont know the words.

Perhaps they're still mending.

Perhaps they don't have the right maps.

Perhaps they're afraid they can't work it out.

Perhaps they're afraid they can.

Perhaps they just like the atmosphere. Gorging them selves, trying not to take note of the jukebox in the corner as it plays things that resonate in ways not even pie can comfort.

_Baby I've been here before. I've seen this room and I've walked this floor. I used to live alone before I knew you. I've seen your flag on the marble arch but love is not a victory march. It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah._


	21. Chapter 21

Her back slams hard against the door as Ashely's tongue fiercely slides into her mouth. Her fingers tangle deep into the girls hair, pulling her deeper into the kiss. Ashley thrusts her leg up into the girl as she fumbles for the keys in her pocket. They jingle around in her hand as she blindly searches for the right one, not wanting to break contact with the blonde. She runs her thumb across the skin above her partners waist line as she slides the key into the dead bolt.

She clicks it open as she slides her hand to the small of the other girl's back. She turns the knob slightly, before sliding her hand to the blonds buttocks. She whispers lithely, "jump." The request is obliged. Kicking the door open she carries her lover across the threshold. She struggles to retrieve the key under the girls weight. When she finally reclaims them, she throws them and they slide across the hardwood floor, only stopping when they crash into the wall.

Ashley continues her assault of kisses as she makes the blind walk to the couch. She nips and sucks on the girls neck causing her moans to fill the void of the small apartment. Satisfied she has gone as far as is necessary, she drops the girl, who squeals in shock at the sudden break in contact. She bounces once or twice on the sofa before she is still enough for Ashley to take her shoes off. She lets them fall on the Persian rug.

Ashley bends over to unbutton her lovers jeans as she steps out of her own shoes. She grabs two fists full of trousers then slowly pulls them off. The cold leather of the couch makes the blonde gasp, the brunette floods.

She trails kisses up the blonde's leg. The couch creeks under her as she moves north. Moving up past the blonds pantie line she pushes the girls shirt ahead of her, kissing her abdomen as she goes. The girl beneath her leans up for easy removal. Ashley discards the shirt and it hangs rumpled off the oval table nearby. She throws her own shirt and it hangs on the black lamp by the bay window.

Ashley kisses the blond, haphazardly removing her own trousers. The couch creeks beneath them as they move in desperate need. The brunette kneads the blonds breast as she nibbles on the girls earlobe. She whispers, "tell me what you want, baby."

The blonde groans, bucking her hips up, "you," she pants tangling her fingers in those curly locks.

Ashley kisses her deeply before pulling away completely. The girl gasps.

"Me what?" Ashley asks.

"Inside of me," she says with a voice full of passion and sparkling blue eyes full of hunger.

Ashley grins a devilish grin, then attacks.

The blonde's scream bounces off the off white walls. Temperatures rise as the girl on top thrust deeply into the blonde below. They struggle to close the distance between them and wind up on the floor, blond on top.

This doesn't satisfy Ashley. She takes a moment to get up on her feet and push the blonde up against the wall. She lays her back against the sill so hard the girl bangs her head on the window. She yelps, but the brunette doesn't miss a beat as she takes her place between her legs.

She takes a moment to taste the juices she has created. The blonde whimpers. Her need is far to great, and she cannot endure the teasing. She tangles her fingers in the girls hair and pulls her into her center.

Ashley wraps her arms around the girls thigh and goes about making her music. She knows exactly here to touch. How fast to go, when to draw circles, when to move side to side, when to slow down and finally when to fill her, and when to add fingers as she licks about the girls button.

The girls head beats a steady rhythm against the pane and she screams out Ashley's name. The closer to climax she gets the louder she screams. The louder she screams, the more turned on Ashley gets. The more turned on she gets the faster she goes. It's a wonderful cycle of pure bliss.

Just when Ashley thinks she can no longer go on, the blonde climaxes and falls limp. Ashley stands up, making her way to the kitchen. She takes her favorite blue cup out of the cabinet, turns on the faucet, and has a drink of water.

She leans on the blue and white tile counter drinking her water and catching her breath.

The blonde slinks over, draping her arm over Ashley's shoulder.

"That, was amazing," she whispers in her ear. Ashley smiles as if to say "I know."

"Make sure you shut the door on your way out."

"What?" The girl asks perplexed.

"You got what you came for now it's time for you to leave." She pushes the blonde off of her and heads for the bedroom.

The girl stands agape as she watched the naked brunette walk towards the bedroom.

"Ashley--"

"Look Linda--"

"Laura," she says hurt.

"Laura, you got what you wanted now get your clothes and leave."

The blonde fights tears as she stares back at those empty chocolate eyes. It's a losing battle.

Ashley watches the carbon copy Carlin dress, before shutting her bedroom door. She didn't want to have to watch another pair of blue eyes walk out of her door.


	22. Chapter 22

She finds herself once again trotting the lonely streets in the hours before twilight. Her hair is gently tussled by the wind. Her eyes are sad and lazy. Her arms wrapped rightly around herself. Her blue eyes boring into the ground as she walks. Her legs on auto pilot, taking her to a place she knows well, but hasn't been to in years.

Her better judgement tells her this is a mistake. The angel on her shoulder is telling her frantically to walk away. To lay this down completely and nevermind the past or what she'd hope for the future. To lay off this pipe dream of a happily ever after with the girl of her dreams. Because dreams don't always come true. And you may not be in her dreams any more. You're just begging for a can of worms to spill open. The angel talks, but she just doesn't listen.

You've been stung before.

You got trampled on.

She can't see past the end of her nose.

There's something better for you.

You're walking into a felt of quick sand.

You have to guard your heart.

You know she's bad for you.

You know she's bad for you.

The little demon is pushing her on. It's only a few more steps. You've come so far already. You owe it to yourself to see if you can work it out. You'll regret it if you don't. Just keep going. You'll be just fine.

"You're going to hurt," says the little angel.

"...if you don't dont this." says the little devil. "Just keep going."

Now throw in her twisted heart. There's a naive piece of that big organ that surfaces at times like these. It wants to give the benefit of the doubt. It wants to see the best in her. Wants to pull that out. Her deeply hidden optimistic view of humanity creeps forward and she chooses to forget everything. She chooses to chalk that up to reckless youth. Abandon lessons learned and continue walking. Keep giving herself a pep talk. Search for the words to say when she comes face to face with the object of her affection.

Searches in vain. All words would be moot, she feels.

She's still not sure if this is what she really wants or if this is a lame attempt to reclaim a partnership. She hasn't seriously dated anyone since they broke up. Not that people haven't tried. She's just not interested. The media wrote her off as a career driven woman, really she's a broken hearted girl.

To afraid to mend herself because she fears she'll lose those good memories. The late night cuddles, early morning gazes, Sunday afternoon drives and swimming on a Summer's day. Those things she's cherished far to much to try to let go of the pain. She's afraid that in moving past the grief will make her forget Ashley like she forgot her little beagle Blaze when her father brought home the lab Champ 2 years after the formers' death.

That's just not something she's willing to do just yet.

So she marches on. Ignoring all the warning signs. Ignoring the red glow of the traffic light. Ignoring the confused twangs in her gut. Disregarding both the angel and the demon. Ignoring the teary eyed girl that crashes into her as she reaches Ashley's apartment building.

She counts her steps up 3 flights. They're only 60 steps but they may as well be 60,000. Her heart pounds heavy in her ears and her breath grows shallow, rapid. All her insecurities come rushing back once she gets outside number three. Struggling to catch her breath she finally knocks. The door opens and she looses it.

"Lydia I told you I don't wan---Spencer?" Brown eyes stare in disbelief.

"May I come in?" Spencer mumbles looking at the floor, slightly embarrassed by Ashley's naked body barely covered by her oriental robe. Silent seconds slip away, then she stammers, "It's cold out here."

Still shell shocked, Ashley waves the blond inside. Spencer slips in slowly making her way to the living room. She snickers in anguish at the disheveled room; smiles at the smell of lavender and memories it drudges up.

"Big night?" She asks in a whisper.

"What are you doing here?" Is her answer.

"There you go, answering a question with a question again." She turns to the girl with a glisten in her eye and a smirk on her face.

The complex confusion on Ashley's face melts as her heart breaks upon viewing the blonde's demeanor. Quietly and with passion she asks again, "What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't sleep," she answers weakly.

"So you thought you'd come over?" It was merely a question. No hidden agenda.

"I was hoping I'd catch you."

"Well, I"m glad you did." She says advancing.

Spencer perks up a bit as the brunette moves closer, but she doesn't get her hopes to high. She's suddenly very aware of all her insecurities, they've multiplied times ten. She can't move or speak so she just stands.

Ashley takes the time to re-organize the living room area, tossing her disrobed clothes to an unseen location. She too is at a loss for what to do. Otherwise she'd let Maria, the maid, deal with it all in the morning.

"So," Ashley says.

Spencer doesn't respond. The plan was to get here. She didn't get far past that.

"You wanna watch a movie?"

"What do you have?" Spencer asks.

Laughing Ashley says, "Tell me what you wanna watch and I probably have it."

"The Brave Little Toaster"

"What?"

"Blanky's always been my favorite."

"Lucky for you Aiden's got kids."

"You seriously have it?"

"I even have the Mars one if you like."

"I'll pass on that."

"Good, cause it's lame." Ashley concedes. "I'll get it ready if you wanna make some popcorn and grab a blanky."

Winking Spencer goes to the familiar, breathing a sigh of relief.


	23. Chapter 23

_The blonde leaned comfortably against the arm of the chair smiling on the show before her. The brunette waiting nervously in the wings. There were two different representatives from a major label ready to decide her fate. She was a lot less nervous than she thought she'd be. She credited Spencer for that. It was a great comfort just to have her near. The butterflies were still and the chattering monkey's silenced. Knowing the blonde was rooting for her made green room time bearable. It helped her make it to the stage; to the bright lights, then it was all Ashley Davies from there. She'd rock the mic like no tomorrow. Nothing in the audience could lift her up or bring her down. It was a pure adrenaline rush._

The crowd got into her rockin sound and soulful lyrics with ease. They fed off her energy and she theirs, until the final note was played.

Having made her way back to the green room she eagerly looked around for Spencer. Usually the girl would be standing at the door with a bottle of water as the set finished, but Ashley did not see her anywhere. This put her off. Of all the nights to break tradition, why'd it have to be this one?

Ashley turned the corner to find a gentle grin on the blonde's face. Her head laying on the arm of the couch, hair dangling. She seemed to be having a nice dream. Ashley didn't want to wake her, so she put a pillow under her head then covered her with a blanket. She took out The Brave Little Toaster and replaced it with her favorite movie before reclining herself in the arm chair.

_"Spencer, you have the most beautiful face I have ever seen. Have you ever thought about having a career in acting?"_

Blushing she replied, "I did a few things in high school, but I really haven't had the time since I graduated."

"You should take a stab at it," the man told her. "I'd be happy to represent you."

"I'll think about it," Spencer said noticing Ashley walking their way. She irrupted with a huge smile.

"See," the man said, "now that's a starlet's face if I ever saw one." Handing her his business card he said, "think about it then give me a call. I know of a picture you'd be perfect for." He gave her a wink before following his consort out of the smoke pub. "It'll make you a star."

Grinning Spencer looked up to find a dejected shell shocked Ashley. "Baby, Baby wait," she called chasing after her.

"What the fuck was that?" Ashley cried jerking herself from Spencer's grip.

"I- I don't- we were just-"

"Save it," Ashley stormed off.

"Ashley!"

Without looking back she called, "Don't"

"But Ashley."

"I'm serious, Spencer. I don't want to see your fucking face right now."

The blonde stirred to the sounds of her own voice in the back ground, dejected and alone.

"Ashley?"

"Shhh, this is my favorite part."

Rolling her eyes Spencer buried her head under the pillow then covered it with the blanket. Once a production wrapped, she couldn't watch herself again. She hated her voice and simply couldn't understand what was so captivating about her face.

She didn't surface again until she heard the brunette sniffle. "Ashely?" On screen a much younger version of herself sobbed in the arms of an older woman, Meryl Streep. She smiled at her good fortune. How luck she was to have such an amazing scene partner when she first started out.

Ashley's body tensed at the blonde girls touch, sobbing harder.

"Ash, baby it's ok."

"I know," she sniffled, "I just really want Kate to beat the odds."

"Well, you know--"

"Shhhh!!!" Ashley cautioned. "Do not ruin this movie for me."

"You've never seen it? It must be, what ten--"

"Shut up."

Spencer suppressed a giggle as she draped her arm around Ashley. They watched the movie play out in comfortable silence. Spencer had forgotten how young she was when _Chasing the Wind_ came out. Not just in age but as an actor. For as much as she loved her breakout role, she also hated it for magnifying all the flaws in her craft. Flaws that really only bothered her. The Academy loved it. They gave her a little gold man for it.

And if that's not where it started it's certainly the moment her humility rose ten fold. Easily making her the most quiet, most humble actress on the red carpet. The media chalked that up to her suburban roots, but really it was fear. Every one had high hopes for her, she didn't want to disappoint. She pulled into herself. Mastered her craft by taking every off beat, quirky, taboo, endearing script that came across her agents desk. She threw herself head long into everything. Trying to forget. Trying to achieve. Trying to become.

For all intensive purposes she's succeeded in every way but one. That's why she's here in this moment with this girl.

"Ash, it has a happy ending." She offers up, wrapping an arm around the girl.

"I know, I just can't help it," Ashley managed to pipe out. "I cry like a baby every time I see it."

Spencer thought that curious as it wasn't a tragedy.

"It brings out a lot of memories ya know?"

'Ah' Spencer thought, 'that explains it.' Still she didn't speak just sat quietly as the credits rolled.

"He was right," Ashley spoke.

"Hmm?"

"It made you a star."

"Yeah," she breathed, she's still not sure it was worth the cost.

"How do you do it?"

"Hmm?" Spencer was growing annoyed at these sporadic questions.

"Cry like that?" Ashley asked simply. "In front of all those people? And make it seem so real?"

Spencer contemplated the weight of what she had to say.

Then spoke simply, "I think about losing you."

Ashley's eyes filled with something, of what Spencer was unsure. Could have been anger or excitement. Could have been fear or joy. Could have been shock, hostility, wonderment, awe, surprise. Could have been any one of those tear jerking emotions. But what it was caught her completely off guard.

She didn't protest or mind it in any way. She simply let Ashley's fingers run through her hair as their tongues tangled gently.


	24. Chapter 24

Sun light inches its way up red satin sheets. The brunette sleeps with a content smile on her face; hair curled around her cheeks creating a picture of pure bliss. It had been a long time coming. In this hour of twilight as the dawn crept its way up her naked back, she could not look less like the rocker that ruled America. Instead she glowed with the innocence of a virgin's first night with a lover. Her breaths steady and strong, a slight grin painted on her face, she soundly dreams of the long night of passion she just shared with the other half of her soul. Everything is perfect for the moment. She has had that one more night she's yearned for all these years. Soaking in every bit of happiness as she sleeps. The air around her is still and clam. Her heartbeat, smooth and steady. It's the best night sleep she's had her entire career. The look on Spencer's face as she came that first time is running on repeat in her dream screen. Ashley had had many girls since their break up, but none of them compared to the beauty of the ecstasy when her girl exploded.

Oh, how she'd missed that. The pleasure she caused in the younger girl was a thing of brilliance she'd not seen any other time in her young life. And there it was again, in her bed, calling her name, panting out moans, raking nails down her taught back and canting into her. Spencer's breath hitting her chest caused such elation, the blonde scarcely need touch Ashley to make her come. The sight of Spencer in her bed alone could have done that.

Spencer tasted just the way she'd remembered, making her salivate all the more. She could have tasted her all night. And she did. Her neck, her earlobes, the skin between her breasts, taught nipples, the trail down her stomach to her navel, those hips she loved to bite; all tasted the way she remembered. Those lips, those full pouty lips, and that tongue of Spencers, God she's getting wet just dreaming about them, tasted just the same as they did when they were 17. But not her juices. Not that most coveted sweet center of the blonde. That did not taste the same. The folds of this girl, whom she was still in love with, the lubrication the girl produced for Ashleys benefit, tasted ten times better than she remembered. Dreaming of this is making her come in her sleep.

Ashley, every ounce of her, is now and has always been, in love with Spencer. So it's no wonder that here now in the stillness of the morning after, she looks like a cherub on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. For in this moment, she is living the life of a deity. Something much greater than rock royalty. She is a goddess. Spencer is her queen. The world is in perfect balance, even if she is only dreaming.

Down at the corner of the bed, the object of her affection sits, hands on her knees, looking down at her black boots. Her breath is shaky. The light of the morning is not illuminating her bare skin. She is fully clothed, unsure what she is doing here. Thinking about all the things she should be doing, not wanting to crawl back to cuddle her lover. Not wanting to step back into what they had, or create something new between them. She is unsure what she wanted when she showed up. Painfully aware of the repercussions of her actions. Contemplating dropping out of the show. Not willing to damage Kyla's production, but painfully aware of how damaging her actions will be on the rehearsal process if Ashley continues to come to rehearsals.

Noting the time, she stands and seeks out her bag. She has a meeting with a producer in an hour. She needs to go home and shower. Her heart beat is racing. Her knees are shaking. She feels sick. She does not know if she feels regret or relief or sadness, but she does know this is not what happy is. This is not how the morning after should be, and she does not know why. She too has been dreaming of this moment for a lot longer than she will allow herself to admit. But this is not how she thought she'd feel when dark gave way to light.

She needs to escape this overwhelming fear. She needs to get out of this house, away from the presence of flesh colored kryptonite, back to the harsh cold of New York winter. She needs to go back to being Spencer Carlin, America's sweetheart, and forget this night ever happened. Forget that for those few hours she felt like herself again. Forget that she felt ecstasy again and again, like no other lover has ever made her feel. Forget that she had wanted this and that as it happened it was just as perfect as she dreamed. Forget any hopes she had of having more than sex with this girl, and go back to being what she was. Go back to an empty stage where an empty girl could become anything she dreamed.

And she did.


	25. Chapter 25

As your character; fill in these statements:

My name is Spencer Carlin.

I am 26 years old.

I am from Ohio.

My profession is multi-award winning actress of stage and screen.

**Five facts I know from the text are:**

I like to drink coffee.

I have a close relationship with my father.

I live in the past, though I am in denial of this fact.

I walk aimlessly when I need to think.

I rarely make eye contact off stage.

**Five things I intuit (but which are not stated in the text) are:**

I am afraid to be myself.

I sleep restlessly.

I don't like when things go off script.

My favorite color is deep purple.

I embarrass easily.

A telling action I perform in the play is running away from my hearts desire.

A telling line I speak is just tell me what you want, and you've got it.

My greatest fear is having both success and happiness.

My greatest longing isto be free of the limitations I put on myself.

Odd habits I have are counting my steps, stirring my coffee ten times, and watching the world happen around me, making up my own endings.

My likes include silence, white chocolate, acting, home made apple pie.

My dislikes include being told I cant do something, herbal tea, feeling trapped.

As your character; fill in these statements:

My name is Ashley Davies

I am 27 years old.

I am from Los Angles, California.

My profession is multi-award winning rock star.

**Five facts I know from the text are:**

I can be petulant.

I have a poor relationship with my family, apart from my half sister Kyla.

I seek out pointless sex to fill an emptiness in my life.

I like to go out into public, in disguise.

I am still in love with Spencer Carlin.

**Five things I intuit (but which are not stated in the text) are:**

Everything I've done has been a step back toward Spencer.

I am trying to be better than my father.

I'm obsessed with my looks.

I have little time for people not in my social class.

I live for the moment only.

A telling action I perform in the play is promiscuous sexual activities.

A telling line I speak is give it to me.

My greatest longing is to win back the girl.

Odd habits I have are fiddling with whatever I'm holding, clicking my teeth, acting before thinking.

My likes include orange smoothies, strawberry filled donuts, sleeping in late, music, old movies.

My dislikes include people who overstay their welcome, people who talk to much. Annoying people in general.

**lay out of this page taken from pg 129 of _The Viewpoints Book_ by Anne Bogart + Tina Landau


	26. Chapter 26

Ashley is utterly spent and not willing at all to be at this rehearsal. It'd been a full eight hours since she'd woken up to an empty apartment. All that remained of her wild night with the love she regretted letting go of was the faint scent of vanilla. Her heart is beating weakly, her eyes are puffy and red. She's only just willed herself to stop the tears she's been suppressing for ten years. Her entire body aches. She's exhausted. The only reason she is here today is family diner afterwards; and the lack of one name on the call sheet. Despite that, she still cannot sit here in this house looking at that stage and remembering the way Spencer laughed and smiled and roamed around as Shelia.

So she creeps out as quietly as she can to the alley, gently crawls over a few flats that block the ladder to the catwalk, and makes her way up. She slowly climbs out to the center and takes a seat. The world around her is completely devoid of noise. She can only hear the screaming of her heart. All of her senses betray her. She starts to cry and swears there is a faint smell of vanilla in the air. She is sure she can feel Spencer's hand on her back, and the tears fall a little harder. She curses her ears for echoing that sweet voice and damns her eyes for betraying her.

"You found me."

Ashley lips quiver as she is sure ruby red lips just whispered in her ear.

"You found me."

'Found you and lost you over and over' she thinks, 'over and over.'

"Ashley?"

A burst of tears stream forth at the sound of her name in Spencers' mouth. As she turns to face the younger girl her lip quivers. Spencer's own tears fall at the sight of those sad brown eyes and matching facial expression. She repeats, "You found me."

They stare long at each other with a gaze somewhere between "I love you,', 'I hate you,' 'I need you,' 'get away from me.' Scene one below them turns to scene two yet they haven't moved. It's hard for eyes to betray you when they are saying so many contradictory things at once. The lines of the actors below bounce off the walls, giving a bit of release to the moment. Two pairs of eyes are still locked. Two sets of lips still shut. Two stomachs flipping with butterflies. Two pairs of hands trembling. Two hearts weakly beating sporadically for possibility. Two stubborn heads unmoved. Two little girls. Two lovers lost: found.

"You found me," Spencer repeats, "you found me. You found me. You found me."

It is a mantra she has been holding back for years. It is one she has been wanting to say to Ashley for as long as she can remember. What she has always wanted; for Ashley to seek her out. For Ashley to be the one chasing. For Ashley to want it bad enough to look for her. For the shoe to be on the other foot. For Ashley to prove how well she really knows her. To come and find her and prove this is worth a fight. That this is worth the effort to Ashley. That Spencer is not just some girl to her. That she is special. That to Ashley she is _the _girl. The one you climb 30 feet for. That to Ashley she is the one you offer and ask total forgiveness of. That to Ashley, she is that unconditional love that comes once in a lifetime.

Spencer believes with all her heart, this is and always was; it.

The chance of a life time, speed your heart rate, make your lungs pump, soul mate kind of love that was postponed by youthful arrogance and rivalry that needn't be. The kind of pettiness only time could erase. The kind of wound that only time could heal. The kind of clarity that only comes with age.

"You found me," she repeats, leaning in until her lips mumble against Ashley's, "you found me."


	27. Chapter 27

**A universe from scratch**

"So what happens now?"

"We wait."

"Wait for what?"

"The lights."

"What about them?"

"In the beginning there was light right?"

"Right," Ashley said, "but there's no god here."

"Hampton is god."

"What?"

"The stage manager is god."

"So he says let there be light and poof there's light."

"Pretty much."

"I don't understand."

"He controls the universe."

"Universe? Our Universe?"

Spencer let out a small laugh, "Not our universe. That one."

"I can't see."

"That is home. That empty place down there. The wood, where there's nothing and everything all at once. The stage is his galaxy and he controls the universe within."

"So what you're saying is we have to wait for that knuckle head to come turn the lights on in the morning."

Spencer laughed, "pretty much. Only there was a pick up rehearsal scheduled, so we'll only have to wait until their diner break is over."

"What do we do until then?"

"Sit here in the dark?"

"I don't like the dark."

"I know."

"In the dark, I'm painfully aware of my flaws."

"In--what?"

"I can hide from you in the dark, but I can't hide from me. I'm much more aware of myself in the dark than any other time."

"That's where we differ."

"We differ in more ways than that don't you think Spence?"

"Yes, but that's the start of it."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, here we sit in the dark right? In the beginning there was nothing. Then God said let there be light. In the beginning there was me and you, in the dark. You aware of yourself and me aware of you. Your voice is so clear and profound here in the dark. Your scent is much sharper. I can't see you, but I know you are there. I know you're my Ashley. I know that you're beautiful."

"I'm kinda glad you can't see me. Don't want you knowing that you're making me blush."

The blonde laughed. "I like the dark. It helps me forget about myself long enough to focus on what's really important."

"What's that?"

"Holding your hand so that you're not afraid."

Ashley smiled as she squeezed Spencer's hand. "So what comes next?"

"What do you mean?"

"After light. What comes after the light?"

"Ah, God sees that it is good."

"What makes it good?"

"In our universe?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know. I'm not telling this story."

"Who is?"

"God?...I don't know. I'm just, living in the moment with you."

"Is that how you do it down there."

"Yes. It's always about the fear. The fear and uncertainty pushes you to create what is about to happen. It's knowing you have to deliver once you're on the boards that pushes you to come up with any thing to start with."

"You know a lot more about acting now than you did when we're 17."

"Let's not talk about that. That's the old world. That universe is dead. I want to forget that universe."

"Does it make things easier for you to deal with if you put them in a storytelling/third person/acting sort of context, Spencer?"

"Yes."

"Ok. So let's say we forget about the gig that night where you were discovered."

"Mhm."

"We forget that I pushed you away over it, and you let me."

"Mhm."

"We forget all the times that I was petulant or you sought out the approval of your family."

"Mk."

"Where does that leave us?"

"Here. In the dark. After one great night of sex."

"Was it now? I wasn't sure because you weren't there when I woke up."

"That was the old universe. I was still a coward."

"But here in the dark you're very brave."

"Exactly."

"Well, what happens next?"

"I don't know. I'm not telling this story remember?"

"I mean, God. What does He do next."

"He makes space between the waters."

"So there's no more drowning?"

"As long as you can still swim. He calls that space 'sky" We are still treading water here."

"Do you think that's what we're doing Spencer?"

"Yes."

"Treading water?"

"Yes. In the dark."

"Why?"

"Because we're in a new universe were nothing exists yet."

"If nothing exists yet how do we know each other."

Spencer laughed, "Good question."

"Will you still talk to me like this when Hampton turns the lights on."

"Yes. It's a new universe remember. I am brave now."

"What made you brave all of a sudden."

"You found me."

"Honestly, I wasn't looking for you."

"You still found me. In our old universe you would have never even stumbled upon me by accident. This is our new solar system," the girl nodded to herself. "Old rules don't apply. We can start from scratch."

"So God makes night and day, sea and sky, what comes next."

"Oh, dry ground. Dry ground comes next. He calls that land and the water sea."

"So it's like His way of giving our arms a rest?"

Spencer laughed, "I suppose you can look at it that way."

"Do you think that will happen in our universe?"

"I don't know Ash. I'm not creating it. I'm just living in it. And I'm choosing to live with you, and I'm hoping our story teller will cut us some slack."

"What about you?"

"What about me?

"Will you cut yourself some slack? You are awfully hard on yourself, Carlin."

"I can't help it, but I will try. What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Will you lose your vices?"

"To quote you 'I don't know, I'm not the story teller. I'm just living moment to moment.' "

"As it should be."

"Moment to moment?"

"Yes. I didn't really learn what that meant until my second motion picture started. I did this, workshop with Anne Bogart, that taught me a lot about it. Helped me find the staple of my craft."

"So it's just like music?"

"Oh yes, you must practice every day or you'll lose you craft."

"You say craft like is something you make. Are you sure it's not just something you have?"

"Do you just know an A sharp from a D flat?"

"That...was a weird example."

Spencer laughed, "But you know what I mean."

"Ok. Point taken."

"It's like this, Ashley."

"This between me and you?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"It's something innate. It's there from the beginning of time. But you have to work at it, shape it, make it shine. We stopped working, and our craft got dusty."

"So this is our chance to make it shine again?"

"I think so, but I'm not telling this story. I'm just living it. I choose to live it with you. I will not be intimidated when Hampton turns on the lights."

"Good. I don't know if I could handle one more day of not seeing you when the lights come on."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously, Spencer. Letting a stupid misunderstanding rip us apart was the dumbest thing I ever let happen."

"Hey, don't give yourself so much power. I own 50% of that mistake."

"Oh, I know you do."

Spencer laughed. "I like holding your hand. It feels like home."

"What happens after land and sea?"

"Green stuff."

"What, like pot?"

Spencer laughed. "Yes actually, but that's not all. All the plants and trees and stuff."

"I don't really know what that means for us."

Spencer laughed, "me neither. Maybe we'll have an vineyard or something."

"Yeah maybe. When do you think they'll be back from diner?"

"You still afraid?"

"Not as long as you hold my hand."

Spencer smiled, "Well, I don't plan on letting go this time around."

"Last time wasn't all that bad."

"I know, Ash, I know it wasn't all bad. Wasn't all good either. It's kinda why I like this in the dark thing."

"So we can talk about it with out facing it."

"No but see that's where we're different remember? I can face things in the dark...it's that light that gave me trouble."

"But you don't think it will this time?

Spencer took a deep breath, and in unison the girls said, "I don't know I'm not telling this story."

"You're just gonna live it," Ashley kissed Spencer's cheek, "I get it Spence. I think its awesome. I like what acting has done to you."

"Me too, me too. I'm not gonna be afraid any more."

"When the lights come back?"

"Ever, as long as you find me. As long as you hold my hand."

"I think I can do that. Tell me what comes next, after the marijuana."

Spencer laughed.

"God I've missed that."

"What?"

"Your laugh. Spencer you have the best laugh I have ever heard."

"Now who's blushing?"

"Awe and I still can't see it."

"I imagine we have about fifteen minutes before the lights come back on."

"Alright. Is that enough time for you to tell me what comes next?"

"In God's universe? Stars, sun and moon, you know, to keep time, and He saw that it was good."

"Every thing's good huh?"

"So far, every thing's perfect."

"Do you think whomever is controlling our universe thinks that it is good?"

"It would seem so, or else we wouldn't still be talking."

"True."

"Birds and fish come next, then all the other animals."

"Let me guess, God saw that it was good."

"Mhm."

"There are no animals here."

Spencer laughed.

"Do you think our story teller likes animals?"

"Possibly. I don't like cats though, so I'm ok with it if they don't."

Ashley laughed.

"People come next, in God's universe."

"That's the most important one right?"

"I think maybe it' relative."

"You mean, with out animals the plants take over and with out plants the animals die and stuff."

"I was thinking more like, without lights we're still stuck out here on this catwalk."

Ashley laughed.

"My eyes have adjusted though."

"I am not walking down that ladder in the dark."

Spencer laughed. "Wouldn't dream of asking you to."

"Well, good cause I'm not moving one inch till those lights come on. Where is this god of yours anyway?"

"Hampton? He likes Philly cheese steaks so he's probably just a cross the street."

"God likes Philly cheese stakes?"

"I don't know about God, but they're Hampton's favorite."

"With Cheese Wiz?"

"Is there any other way to make them?"

"With normal cheese like a normal person."

Spencer laughs, "I forget you're anti-food from a bottle."

Ashley smiles, "It's ok, this is a universe from scratch right? We're starting over here in the darkness. And that's one thing you'll already know about me when god says 'let there be light.'"

"I like the sound of that."

And she looked and saw that it was good.


	28. Chapter 28

The two girls climbed down the ladder as gingerly as possible. Spencer went ahead first to protect Ashley. The latter hoping with all hope the former would be on the ground waiting with a kiss once her feet touched down. So when she feels two soft hands grab her hips as she makes those last few steps, her stomach flips. When Spencer turns her around and kisses her deeply, she goes weak in the knees. It is their first kiss all over again; pure, innocent, gentle and private.

"Where did you come from?"

"Hampton" Spencer says breaking away from Ashley completely.

Ashley, more startled at the breaking of contact than the prying of eyes, takes a step towards Spencer, putting her hand on her back.

Startled by the touch, Spencer looks back to Ashley, gives a weak smile, then looks back to the stage manager, "If I'm not called I like to watch from the catwalk. Helps me understand the play better." She shifted a bit on her feet pulling away from Ashley's touch.

"That's okay, Miss Carlin, but I'd rather you not go up there again though. If you get hurt I will lose my job."

Spencer nods sadly and makes her way out of the alley. She is a bit surprised when she feels skinny fingers lace with her own "That's my favorite place in the world, and I just lost it."

Ash squeezed her hand, "I can take care of him for you if you want me to?"

Spencer laughed "I don't think that will be necessary, but thanks anyway Sweetie."

The girls creep quietly hand in hand to the back of the house. There at a table, Kyla sits pouring over notes. The assistant director is on stage giving the actors their notes and having them rehearse the blocking they had been given earlier that day. Deep in thought, Kyla does not notice the girls come up behind her. So she jumps a mile when Ashley put her hand on her shoulder. "For fucks sake you scared the living crap out of me."

"Sorry," Ashley said pulling out a chair next to her sister, bringing Spencer down on her lap. "We didn't mean to scare you."

Look of shock mixed with surprise and pleasure crossed Kyla's face "where did you two come from?"

"Spencer was showing me how she likes the catwalk."

Unease spread over Spencer's face as she shifted uncomfortably in Ashley's lap. Ashley ran one lone finger down Spencer's spine causing the girl to arc and shudder. Kyla noticed her trying to hide a grin.

"So did you do your little turn on the catwalk?" Kyla asked.

"Oh, please, do not sing that song," Spencer says moving from Ashley's lap to the table. "I will have it in my head all day."

"I'm too sexy, I'm too sexy," the older brunette sang.

"Ash" Spencer giggled, "I'm serious I'll never get it out of my head."

"You don't like thinking about how sexy you are?" Ashley teased.

Spencer blushed and took a stack of notes off the table and started reading. She tried focusing on the words of the script instead of the voices in her head telling her to run as fast as she could in the opposite direction. She slid back on the table crossing her legs and hoping the sisters would continue their interaction.

"Working hard or hardly working," Ashley asked as she put one hand on Spencer's knee.

"Working like you would not believe, Ash. This is so difficult."

Spencer chortled.

Ashley cut her eyes back at Spencer grinning, "Well you did ask for it Kyla."

"Yes, I know and I love every minute of it."

"Miss Woods, here's the coffee you asked for," said the curly headed assistant stage manager. " Just the way you like; in a paper cup."

_"You re-use a paper cup?"_

_"This is a special cup."_

_"Special?"_

_Ashley nods as she leans against the house pulling Spencer into her arms kissing her on the crown of her head. "One year ago today, I accidentally ran into the most amazing woman ever. Literally. She spilled my coffee all over me. It kinda pissed me off. But she had an endearing quality about her. I just could not stop thinking about her the whole rest of the day. As I sat in my English class sipping on what was left of my latte, I decided I had to meet her. So I stayed through the torture. When the bell rang ending my 7th period math class I went to my locker hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Lucky for me I saw her stroll into the gym. I threw the cup in my locker, closed it, and went throw around some Ju ju."_

_"Ju ju"_

"Spence?" Ash said putting her arm around Spencers' waist, "You okay there?"

"Yeah" Spencer said. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"You better be okay I can't do this play without you," Kyla kid.

Spencer smiled crossing her legs in the opposite direct knocking Ashley's hand off of it. Ashley wasn't convinced that Spencer was okay but she didn't want to press the matter so instead she ran her fingers up and down the girls back reassuring her she was still there.

"So how much of my money have you spend so far?" Ashley said with a smile

"Well, if it wasn't for Spencer's salary I wouldn't've spent hardly any of it," they all giggled. "Actually, I was looking at the scene painters Tom suggested. He wants my opinion, don't know why. I did notice that Chelsea's name was on the list. Spence have you been to Chelsea's studio lately?"

_"Or mojo, doesn't really matter what you call it I have it all." Spencer snickered, Ashley squeezed her tighter. "Never been so glad to admit I was wrong."_

"Spence. Spence? Spencer." Kyla said.

"What?" Spencer asked

Climbing on the table next to Spencer Ashley said "Kyla was asking you about Chelsea's studio."

"Oh, it's magnificent. She has such an amazing talent." Spencer gushed as she held Ashley's hand, "You'll never get her though she's too busy."

"Man that sucks. It would have been awesome to have her in on this."

"Jeez, Ky, it's not the end of the world."

_"Stop being such a Debbie Downer."_

_"When you told me this weeks' date night was going to be colorful I had no idea you meant it literally."_

_"Oh, shush. It's going to be fun."_

_"Right."_

_"Music wine, art. What more do you need?"_

_"I need to not get paint on my shirt."_

_"I told you not to wear it."_

_"But it's date night. I wanted to look hot for you."_

_"You always look hot to me."_

_"Well, that's because I am hot."_

_"And vain."_

_"I probably think this song is about me."_

_"Don't cha? Don't cha?"_

_"Oh, but you like the vain-ness."_

_"Maybe a little."_

_"Just a little?"_

_"Yeah, just a bit."_

_"Liar."_

_"Maybe."_

"Keep thinking baby sister," Ashley said pulling Spencer a little closer to her. The blonde half heartedly smiled.

"Because you can do so much better than me," Kyla scoffed.

Ashley laughed heartily, "there's no fucking way I could do this. I got a lot of respect for you girls and your ability to do this theatre stuff."

_I don't know how to have you both."_

_"Then choose."_

_"I don't want to choose. I want to have you both. I just don't know how yet, but I'm trying. Isn't that what you want? For me to try?"_

_Frustrated Ashley turns back to the window. She did tell Spencer all she wanted was for her to try to have this relationship. Lately it wasn't enough for her, and she was having a hard time expressing that to Spencer. She tried to stay sympathetic to Spencer's plight, but a promise is a promise._

"Right, Spence? Spence."

"Spencer, Kyla's asking you a question," Ashley said squeezing Spencer gently.

"I'm sorry," she stutters, "I have to go. Excuse me"

Ashley blinked hard after the retreating back of Spencer her eyes watched her get smaller and smaller as she walked down the house, then up the stairs onto the stage and back towards the dressing room. Ashley took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Spencer ran down the steps slamming her dressing room door behind her "What am I doing, what am I doing, what am I doing?" She repeated this over and over, as though repetition would reveal the answer. As she paced back and forth, the faded grey tiles creaked under her feet making her feel surrounded. With each step she took her shoes squeaked louder and louder overwhelming her. Taunting her. Teasing her. Filling her with undeniable shame for having just walked away from the love of her life again. "What am I doing, what am I doing, want am I doing?"

The creaks grow louder and louder and louder until Spencer hears what she thinks is a door slamming. She did not notice who it was because as she turned her head to see the lights went out. Spencer panted to catch her breath trying desperately hard to slow her heart rate which was not made easy by the unknown identity of this intruder. "Who's there?" She asked.

"Can't you smell me?" Ashley's voice gently spoke as she slowly shut the door behind her.

"Ash" Spencer said a new found calm in her voice.

Ashley slow moved her way to the sound of Spencer's voice. "I'm right here."

"Wha—who--wh ah--" her stutter was silenced with a soft and tender kiss.

"In the dark there's only you and me," Ashley whispered.

Spencer nodded, then kissed the girl again.

Several minutes pass, the darkness being filled with the sound of kissing, calming, co-existence. Spencer surely wasn't about to break it, because that would mean talking. She wasn't ready for talking. She wanted to ignore her small panic attack for all time. She did not want Ashley thinking she was already questioning them. It has barely been three hours, and she wasn't. There was no questioning as to if she wanted this or not. She had wanted nothing but this since she was 16. She just did not know how to have it. She was still unsure how to have it, but she did know she was not afraid of it. Nothing ever felt so easy, even when it was at its hardest. This was her happily ever after.

"Spence?"

Spencer breathed a deep breath, "Ash?"

"Are you okay?"

Spencer nodded against Ashley's shoulder.

"I want you to be alright," she kissed her softly. " Are you going to be alright?"

"I'm perfect here with you."

"And up there with them?"

"Up there with them I am an actor. Up there with them they don't actually know me. It's time the world met the real Spencer Carlin."

"And that is?"

"Ashley Davies' girlfriend."

Ashley smiled and gave Spencer a kiss, slow and steady. Slow and steady.


	29. Chapter 29

The pair lay on the couch in the dark, fingers tangled together. Their hearts and breaths synchronize. The pale moon light glistens across the Persian rug; it is the only source of light. A beaded wind chime jingles in the distance. The only other sound is an air purifier plugged into the wall behind the couch on which they recline.

"It's dark,"

"It's night, Ash."

The brunette giggled, "I know, but it's still dark."

"I'm right here baby," Spencer said squeezing her partners hand.

"Yes you are," Ashley smiled before kissing Spencer on the top of her head. "Like you were always meant to be."

"When did you become a soppy romantic?"

"When did you come into my life?"

The blonde grinned profusely. "Not soon enough."

"Sweet talker."

"Some times."

"Thank you for being there today." Spencer said simply.

"You're welcome," Ashley smiled, "I wouldn't have been anywhere else though."

"Gosh," Spencer gushed, "I didn't think it was possible to smile this much."

"Ok now who's the soppy romantic?"

Spencer laughed, "Are you kidding? It's more like dorkily cheesy."

"I was trying to be nice," Ashley confessed before stealing a kiss.

"Is it always going to be like that?" Spencer asked seriously.

"Probably," Ashley said solemnly. "But you knew that already Spencer."

"No, you're right, I knew what the cost might be for going public," she snuggled in closer to the brunette, "And I also knew there was no way I could keep you a secret either. I love you to much."

"Gosh," Ashley gushed, "Now who's blushing?"

Spencer giggled, "Red looks good on you."

Ashley rolled her eyes, then stole another kiss. "You think you'll be able to handle more of today?"

"As long as you're there to turn out the lights I can handle anything."

"Yeah, well, as long as you hold my hand, I can do that."

Spencer smiled, and hummed.

Ashley smiled, and joined her.

They snuggled under the leopard print blanket, just holding each other for several silent minutes. The scent of vanilla mixed with lavender wafted in the room and it smelled like home again. The way home should always smell.

"I know that a good few people knew who I was before today, but I feel like I've just been thrust into the stratosphere."

"Spencer," Ashley said flatly, "you're the most photographed woman in Hollywood right now."

"I know and all because of today."

Ashley laughed. "No, Spencer, for the last ten years."

"What no."

"You're modesty is too much for me some times."

"But seriously, Ashley, every where I've been, they've chased me. It's worse than ever, in that good way."

Ashley giggled, "It'll get easier."

"Really?"

"You'll get used to it?" Ashley said unsure.

Spencer giggled.

"You are so cute when you do that."

She blushed and said, "I"m glad it's dark in here so you can't tell how easy it is for you to make me blush."

"You're cute when you blush too."

"Yeah yeah."

"Don't yeah yeah me."

Ashley giggled, "how you gonna stop me?"

Spencer suddenly rolled over to face the girl, considered her for a moment then lunged forward. Ashley moaned as she tangled her finger in the blondes hair. Spencer slid her tongue into the brunettes open mouth and gently stroked her tongue. Ashley's hips bucked involuntarily. And just as suddenly as she started, Spencer rolls on her back again.

"That's how," she giggles.

"Oh no you don't" Ashley said turning the tables on the girl. "You can't start something like that and not finish it."

Spencer snickered, "how you gonna stop me?"

Ashley growled, "Oh, I'll show you."

The brunette attached her mouth to the blondes neck catching her on the soft spot that drives the blonde insane. Spencer groans gutturally, Ashley grins into her neck. She slowly lets her finger tips creep up Spencer's stomach, causing the girl below her to shutter. Spencer reached down the length of Ashley's back, pulling the girls shirt up as she raked her nails back up.

Ashley broke long enough to discard her shirt for Spencer, then went right back to kissing her girlfriend fiercely. Spencer moaned, reaching down to untie her partners pajama bottoms. She let her hand slide between skin and fabric; Ashley groaned collapsing.

"You distracted me," she panted at the feel of Spencer inside her.

Spencer placed long slow kisses against Ashley's lips, letting her hand find its own steady rhythm. "As if you hate it," she said between kisses.

Ashley moaned.

"I love you, Ashley."

The girl on top of her melted more into her, she whimpered, "I love you more Spencer."

"There's no way," Spencer told her flatly as she increased her tempo.

Ashley's lips quivered, she couldn't speak.

"See, its not possible," Spencer said as she switched from medium speed circles to moderately fast strokes.

Ashley groaned "I love you with all my heart, soul and body."

Spencer's cadence quickened as she sucked hotly on Ashley's neck. The brunette cried out, rocking her hips involuntarily.

"I love you," Ashley panted, "as deep as the sea."

Breathlessly in her ear Spencer said, "I love you to the moon and back."

Ashley's breath hitched as her heart pound nearly out of her chest, "I love you further than Pluto."

Spencer continued with a mix of strokes, circles, pressing and thrusting that she knew would drive Ashley crazy, "I love you longer than the equator."

Ashley, shaking in bliss, husked, "I love you, I love you,--I--I fucking love you."

Moving with urgent purpose, Spencer declared, "I love you brighter than the Sun."

On the edge, Ashley managed to squeak out, "my love surrounds you more than the dark."

With out missing a beat, Spencer maintained, "if you'll be my night, I will be your day."

Ashley arched forward, falling fully on Spencer who was still deep with in her. Soaked in each other, day filling night, night filling day, they laid there.


	30. Chapter 30

"_______"says the Zen master._

"_Pay no attention to the man behind the curtian," says the Wizard._

The brunette attached her mouth to the blondes neck catching her on the soft spot that drives the blonde insane. Spencer groans gutturally, Ashley grins into her neck. She slowly lets her finger tips creep up Spencer's stomach, causing the girl below her to shutter. Spencer reached down the length of Ashley's back, pulling the girls shirt up as she raked her nails back up.

Ashley broke long enough to discard her shirt for Spencer, then went right back to kissing her girlfriend fiercely. Spencer moaned, reaching down to untie her partners pajama bottoms. She let her hand slide between skin and fabric; Ashley groaned collapsing.

"You distracted me," she panted at the feel of Spencer inside her.

Spencer placed long slow kisses against Ashley's lips, letting her hand find its own steady rhythm. "As if you hate it," she said between kisses.

Ashley moaned.

"I love you, Ashley."

The girl on top of her melted more into her, she whimpered, "I love you more Spencer."

"There's no way," Spencer told her flatly as she increased her tempo.

Ashley's lips quivered, she couldn't speak.

"See, its not possible," Spencer said as she switched from medium speed circles to moderately fast strokes.

Ashley groaned "I love you with all my heart, soul and body."

Spencer's cadence quickened as she sucked hotly on Ashley's neck. The brunette cried out, rocking her hips involuntarily.

"I love you," Ashley panted, "as deep as the sea."

Breathlessly in her ear Spencer said, "I love you to the moon and back."

Ashley's breath hitched as her heart pound nearly out of her chest, "I love you further than Pluto."

Spencer continued with a mix of strokes, circles, pressing and thrusting that she knew would drive Ashley crazy, "I love you longer than the equator."

Ashley, shaking in bliss, husked, "I love you, I love you,--I--I fucking love you."

Moving with urgent purpose, Spencer declared, "I love you brighter than the Sun."

On the edge, Ashley managed to squeak out, "my love surrounds you more than the dark."

With out missing a beat, Spencer maintained, "if you'll be my night, I will be your day."

Ashley arched forward, falling fully on Spencer who was still deep with in her. Soaked in each other, day filling night, night filling day, they laid there.

Several silent moments passed as the duo lay wrapped up in each other completely. A clock in the distance ticked, a fan gently hummed; a perfect peace closed the scene on estranged love reunited.

"Cut!" Called the dark brown haired director. He pushed his glasses up on his nose smiling. "That's a wrap."

The crew around them clapped, it had been a long process but here they were standing at the last minutes of the final day of shooting the South of Nowhere movie.

"Was that really ok, Paul?" the faux blonde asked the older man.

"It was brilliant," he assured her, "probably the best moment you two share in the entire film."

"Well," Mandy said, "that's good cause it's the one the audience is going to walk away with."

Gabrielle laughed, "Yeah it would suck if it was perfect."

"Everything about this process has been perfect," the director said, "Nice work girls. I'll see you at the wrap party."

They nodded and made their wait to their dressing rooms.

"I can't believe that it's over." Mandy confessed.

"I know," Gabby agreed, "It feels like it just started."

"This has been one of the best experiences of my career. I'm so glad I got this opportunity."

Gabby smiled as she nodded in agreement. "There are just, no words to express what I'm feeling right now. It's bitter sweet."

"Do you think we'll have a big opening?"

"I think so," she said assuredly, "a project like this, it's, ya know, just about time a show like this was made."

"Yeah, yeah," Mandy said excitedly, "What ever is just gonna get across that love is love is definitely needed and its about damn time too."

The blonde laughed, "I'm gonna miss coming to work with you ever day."

"Me too," Mandy said, "it kind of feels like loosing a family."

"C'est la vie, I guess," Gabrielle said sadly, "We still have life off set."

"True. Have you got many new projects lined up?"

"Nothing at the moment, but I've got auditions lined up. How about you?"

"A few things yeah," Mandy told her, "I'm really excited to jump into those. I feel like this project," she paused to think, "Its like when you play such a controversial role, nothing else matters. If I can do this I can do anything, ya know?"

Gabrielle nodded, "Yeah, it's definitely been amazing." She grabbed the brunette in a hug and said, "I'm so glad you were my scene partner."

"Me too," the smaller girl said.

After a minute of hugging they broke apart, "I guess we better make a move. They might hold shooting for us but I doubt they'll hold the party."

Mandy laughed sadly, "See you there."

With a head tilt and a smile Gabrielle said, "Wouldn't miss it for the world." And with that they parted ways.

[sic]


End file.
